


On Truth and Untruth

by WaeRose



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Agender Deceit | Janus Sanders, Apologies, Character Development, Character Study, Deceit | Janus Sanders Angst, Deceit | Janus Sanders-centric, Developing Friendships, Developing Relationship, Fluff and Angst, Forgiveness, Friends to Lovers, Kissing, M/M, Morality | Patton Sanders is a Sweetheart, Nonbinary Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders, Nonbinary Logic | Logan Sanders, Pining, Platonic Cuddling, Platonic Relationships, Slow Burn, background dukexiety - Freeform, blink and you'll miss it logince, canonverse, except i make up some new rules for it, kind of?? i just want janus to be Friends with everyone and also kiss patton a little, platonic dlampr - Freeform, the title i stole from nietzsche's book of the same name because i am pretentious, theyre all gonna love each other so much
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-19
Updated: 2021-02-19
Packaged: 2021-03-14 15:14:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 28,945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29544306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WaeRose/pseuds/WaeRose
Summary: Janus is allowed to participate in the group, and that is more than enough for them. Almost thirty years of basically not existing right into being able to do their goddamn job at long last? Not too bad of a change up, really, and they aren't going to complain about it any time soon. Patton, however, insists on throwing a wrench into their system- their perfectly functioning, if maybe hypothetically a bit lonely, system. They wished they could be more angry about it than they were.(In which Janus is accepted, has an identity crisis, and fumbles their way through growth and trust, all the while not nearly as alone as they'd like to convince themself they are.)
Relationships: Anxiety | Virgil Sanders & Deceit | Janus Sanders, Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders & Deceit | Janus Sanders, Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders & Deceit | Janus Sanders, Deceit | Janus Sanders & Logic | Logan Sanders, Deceit | Janus Sanders & Morality | Patton Sanders, Deceit | Janus Sanders/Morality | Patton Sanders, Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Comments: 27
Kudos: 69





	On Truth and Untruth

**Author's Note:**

> i have been working on this goddamn novella of a fanfiction for six months and i have so many feelings about it. here it is, my finished work. i love it very much and i'm making the executive decision that it's good so, thank u for coming to read it.
> 
> This was always gonna be One Long Story, i knew it wouldn't work the same if it were a chapter story, and i needed it to stay cohesive. not everything i make is gonna be this long from here on out, of course, but i've found that i really like making the longer stories so it certainly won't be my last. 
> 
> Janus is my least favorite character. and then i wrote this. and now... i have a lot of feelings. sanders sides get on my level i gave janus the character arc that u have not yet accomplished hows it feel. how does it feel to be bested /j. anyway i think i love janus so much because of writing this and really just psychoanalyzing the fuck out of this little dude. 
> 
> i'll have more to say in the end notes, i think, because i don't want to give any spoilers. just know it will be sad, and then later it will be happy, and there are many ups and downs. get ready for a long one, and enjoy!!  
> -WJ

_ “Perhaps no one has yet been truthful enough about what ‘truthfulness’ is.” - Friedrich Nietzsche _

Janus preached a great many things, most of them beginning with ‘self’. Self-care, selfishness, and of course, self-reflection. The last point was perhaps the most necessary in order to cultivate a healthy mind; self-love is made much harder if you don’t know  _ who  _ it is you’re meant to love, that is, who you  _ are _ . An easy problem for Janus to solve when everyone around them was so very simple. 

They used to think that disparagingly, as a slight on their compatriots’ intelligences, but it had become almost a compliment after they weasled their way into the whole group. They got a clearer picture of the joy it was, now. To be simple, to be understandable,  _ redeemable _ . Quite the luxury, if Janus was candid. 

Not that they didn’t think  _ they  _ weren’t redeemable- that’s what they’d been fighting for since the start. Acknowledgement in their field, which they’d since earned- only now they seemed to forget how they knew that they’d been in the right, that was all.

Janus didn’t forget important things, except for the forgettable ones. 

They were disinterested in the affairs of others, and yet they needed to know all about them anyway. They liked observing from afar and orchestrating, but they didn’t have the patience to keep their hands off of situations. And this was only the beginning of the deep well of contradictions Janus found in themself, so it wasn’t any wonder why they were the mysterious one among the sides. Hard not to be, when they didn’t know what all they  _ were _ , and were too worried about what they’d discover if they dared to guess about it. 

Okay, well, that was one thing that Janus knew: they thought too much. 

The journal shut with a snap, a magnetic clasp latching effortlessly. Janus set it down in their lap and ran their gloved fingers over the gift’s leathery surface.  _ There,  _ the motion seemed to say,  _ that’s one divulgence for you, aren’t you satisfied for today? For this week, possibly? _

It had been Patton’s idea to start with. Janus recalled his warm smile as he passed out the personalized little diaries to everyone, an expression that failed to reach his dimly shadowed eyes. No more bottling up those nasty thoughts, Patton assured them, and his smile had fallen a little while he spoke. If the others weren’t comfortable confiding in him, then they would all have their own little books to write down whatever was trapped in their minds- that was the idea he’d had for them. 

Janus used it as often as they could. They were… they were  _ proud  _ of him, and of all the compromises he’d made in such a short span. It was the least they could do to extend the same to him, however many identity crises this journal was going to cause them along the way. Keeping things even, that was all it was. 

Autumn leaves drifted to rest against the windowsill in front of Janus’ armchair, crinkling in the wind. They kept their room autumnal year-round, just to feel that wind swooping from the cottony gray skies that could always make them at home. Things were… odd. Transitional, that’d be the word for it. Lines between who agreed with whom blurred but hadn’t yet vanished. Issues complicated and resolved themselves in perpetuity like a rolling wave, sometimes on the edge of a threat but always subsiding well before disaster. 

Janus bridged the gaps. They were an excellent guide. As good days became more and more often, thanks in no small part to them, it could even be said that all of the sides were on friendly terms.

Well, excepting themself, obviously. 

The smile fell from their lips and they stood, setting their diary down on a small end table beside the chair. Subconsciously, they paced circles around the room and took comfort in the soft sounds of their heels clicking against hardwood flooring. 

Janus hadn’t the time to get swept up in their writing anyhow; lunch was to be soon, and for that they needed to be ready. Meals were an every day emotional warzone for them, and as the others grew closer it only seemed to worsen. Janus had always known their role as the odd-one-out was non negotiable, and that meant trying twice to keep everything stable. Be watchful and be vague, and they could also keep their place at the table. 

More progress was made that way. No one would ever know how much of an impact they had on keeping everyone safe and happy; just how it ought to be. 

But to circle back to the important point, in order to do all that they needed to stay on their feet. Now, Janus had made themselves guidelines for most situations nowadays, but mealtimes were of particular sensitivity. There were three rules:

Rule one was to Avoid Speaking to Virgil at All Costs. He was like a particularly hostile insect; ignore him and you might still get stung, but at least he wouldn’t unleash the whole swarm that way. 

Rule two was to Not Express Emotion in front of Roman. Everything had to be perfectly neutral, lest Roman think them a), a bitch plain and simple, or b), a cruel manipulator trying to butter him up and break him down (which wasn’t a baseless judgement, to be fair, it was just… outdated).

Rule three- the least perilous of them all (which showed in the side it pertained to)- was not to express their opinions around Logan,  _ especially  _ if it was something disagreeable. The temperamental trait would take any opportunity for heated debate, and if ae were dealing with someone whom ae respected it wouldn’t be too big of a deal. But. Janus just wasn’t there yet, as ae’d made clear.

It was very simple really. Janus just had to not share their opinions, had to not speak with too much emotion, and really just not speak at all unless it was necessary. The rules could be even more succinctly summarized as; best not to engage with anyone, save Remus… or Patton. 

What exactly Patton’s ‘deal’ was, Janus wasn’t sure yet. All they knew was that after tentative examination, he was nearly as safe to talk to as their (only) other friend. They didn’t spend too long wondering why, because it’s bad form to question a good thing when you don’t need to. 

Janus stopped pacing. They smoothed a hand over their clothes, adjusted their hat, and stood waiting. 

It was just about time. They stared at their door and folded their hands over their stomach, tapping their foot in time with the seconds. They were well familiar with this barrier of grainy, dark wood, something thick and oakish and smelling vaguely of old forests. The handle was curved and crystal, unusually cold to the touch. Janus waited, as they so often did, until they heard footsteps ascending the stairs.

A sly smile slid onto Janus’ face perfunctorily; they opened the door, slipping through it just in time to interrupt whomever had been sent for them. It happened to be Roman, who started when he saw them waiting. 

“Well, I was just about to come downstairs,” they claimed, pretending not to notice Roman’s wary glare. “Is it time to eat?”

Roman gave a short nod, shifting his weight from side to side. He looked up, awkwardly, before promptly dropping his head again and turning right back around to retreat downstairs. Janus resisted the urge to roll their eyes, trailing slowly, slowly behind him.

They didn’t know why people being near their room was so disquieting. It was habit to be listening for any noise on the stairs by that point, so much so that the idea of even a hand knocking upon their door felt violating. Someone seeing inside, or  _ being  _ inside- that was too much to stomach entirely.

Janus shook the thoughts away as they reached the bottom of the stairs. They darted silently to the dining room, taking their usual seat with Logan across from them, and Patton to their right at the head of the table. To their left was Virgil, who- as usual- shrunk into his seat at the sight of them. 

There was a moment of silence as everyone gathered around, a pause for what to say. Once the food was set out, though, and everyone ran through the habitual compliments to Logan’s cooking, conversation came a little easier. Janus could’ve sighed in relief when everyone got sucked into the discussion; that morning would be an easy one, then. 

The sides’ good spirits were maintained through the meal, just as Janus hoped, with amicable talk all around. Janus was able to keep their mouth shut, which no doubt added to the peace. Even Remus and Virgil were engaging in nice conversation, taunting and biting banter exchanged between the two of them almost easily. Roman was quieter, but he oscillated between arguing with his brother and joking to Patton, all in pleasantness. 

It was on days like that Janus believed that everything would end up alright. So long as they kept a keen eye on everything, and kept themself from wedging any more rifts between everyone.

Patton was always the one to take the task of tidying after breakfast was done. The remaining sides always went their own ways to chip away at the never-ending work of managing one (1) human being, and he handled it happily on his own. 

Janus had the very same intentions as they darted out of the dining room, anticipant to get back to familiar territory. They were intercepted, however, by a tug on the end of their capelet. Janus had to bite back a sigh, turning around with a glare already in place.

“Yes?” They snapped.

Patton hovered in the doorway, not  _ quite  _ meeting their eyes, but glancing up enough for any inconspicuousness to be evaporated at once. Janus’ grimace melted into a curious- perhaps concerned, but who’s to say- frown.

“Yes, what is it?” They said, easier. 

Patton shrugged, a wiggly little smile worming across his broad face. “Oh, I don’t know, I was just thinking that when I’m finished up here-” he gestured to the room at his back, “Maybe you’d wanna spend some time together? You know, since neither of us are too busy and all, it’d be fun to hang out!” 

Well. That was not… entirely expected. 

“Uhm- Why-” Janus cleared their throat- they  _ didn’t  _ stammer, of course not, that would be ridiculous. “What drives you to ask, Patton?”

He seemed flustered, too, at the very least. Hard to notice, but he was squirming in his spot, and even if it was for a different reason than Janus it at least evened out the playing field. 

“Oh, no- no  _ real _ reason. I just thought we should get to know each other more, since now we’re friends and all!” 

Janus bit back a startled ‘ _ we’re friends?’ _ , knowing that Patton would most certainly read rejection into it. They didn’t exactly want to give that impression, but what they did want to give, they didn’t know. This was  _ not  _ in their books, and they couldn’t help but flounder. 

Despite the confusion, Janus would much rather not risk the embarrassment of asking what the hell Patton’s intentions were directly. They opted to give him what he claimed to want, then, if only in order to figure out what he really wanted from them. 

“Sure, why not?”

Patton finally made proper eye-contact, bounced once with surprise, and then he was grinning. It was all a very wholesome display, one that assuaged at least some of Janus’ suspicion. 

“Oh, good! I’ll see you when I’m finished up then, Janus,” the smile went somehow wider, and then he was disappearing back into the kitchen with a lilting hum. Janus nodded at his back, minorly dazed. When they walked away, they left their mind in the doorway. 

_ What  _ was that about?

But apparently the day hadn’t found that to be enough interruptions for them yet, as mere inches away from the staircase, they were once again accosted. Or, more accurately, they were too distracted to notice Roman glaring daggers at them until they’d almost walked smack into him. 

He side-stepped with a deeply offended yelp, and  _ that  _ got their guard back up. 

“Oh, your presence was  _ very  _ obvious there,” they scrambled to lie, “I’ll just be heading upstairs now, if you’d move.”

The issue being that Roman had stepped in front of those stairs, and he didn’t seem to be getting out of the way. An ugly scowl curled on Roman’s lips, the picture of distrust, and Janus had to yet again avoid rolling their eyes at him. So much for a peaceful day.

“What the hell was  _ that _ ?”

They tucked their arms across their chest perturbedly. “What was  _ what _ , Roman?”

“Oh, don’t you play dumb with me,” he barked back.

“Well, I’m sure you know a lot about that-”

“What are you doing with Padre?”

Janus blinked, entirely bewildered for the second time in less than all of ten minutes.

“I don’t think I know what you mean,” to their credit, that was true, “And I don’t see what business it is of yours what he and I spend our time doing.” 

Roman gestured widely at nothing in particular, positively snarling.

“What business of  _ mine _ ? I’ve got to make sure you aren’t going to, oh, I don’t know- squeeze him to death when nobody’s looking!? Or teach him that murder is okay, actually, or whatever it is that  _ you _ -” like it was a disease, that’s how he said it,  _ ‘you’ _ , like he was addressing a plague or a monster or an infamous serial killer. “-like to do in your spare time,  _ Deceit _ .”

Arguing back was just going to hurt everyone, break that peace that was still so fragile, and Janus really should just keep their  _ fucking _ head down for  _ once _ \- but they couldn’t help themself but return his glare, tenfold, as they bristled. They bared their teeth and spat like a viper, taking sick satisfaction in the way Roman tried not to shrink back from their withering look. 

They were playing so very nice already, hadn’t they earned a bit of self-preservation? 

“So I’m going to kill him? You think I’m aiming to end his very life, is that it? Or corrupt his  _ small _ ,  _ simple _ , and  _ naïve  _ mind?” Janus left no room for an answer, though Roman looked itching to give one anyway. “Well,  _ he  _ asked to spend time with  _ me _ \- which must be  _ so  _ surprising for you, because it’s not like he’s his own entity with free will to do what he wants. No, clearly everyone needs to consult you before they can be allowed to do anything around here, isn’t that right?”

Too far. That was too far, they could’ve cut off leagues before that- but they hadn’t because they never could help themself when this happened. So they could only stand, still stubbornly glaring, as Roman’s nothing but malicious eyes made them feel heavy with guilt. There was a terrible second where they thought Roman might strike them, make their fight a  _ real  _ one, and even though he’d never done anything of the sort before it seemed frighteningly possible. 

Roman lurched forward, and Janus fell back, but the Creative trait breezed past them with little more than a shove from his shoulders. 

They didn’t know if they ought to be relieved about that. They certainly didn’t  _ feel  _ relieved.

“I’m going to be in the imagination with Reem,” he spat, “But don’t think that means I won’t be listening.”

They  _ did  _ roll their eyes at that one, but Roman’s back was already turned. They watched him sink away before fleeing back up the stairs and locking themself in their room, trying to ignore the painful pounding of their heart. 

It was an unfortunately short fifteen minutes before Janus heard soft, slow footsteps moving up the stairs. They willed away the webbed lies they’d been pretending to work on, letting the yellow twines and strings slip away to a place less physical. At least Patton might be a better distraction than their work was. 

He was strangely light on his feet, considering his size (though he still moved slowly, and that was more in line with the dad persona). Patton’s walk was distinctive maybe even to those less keen of senses than Janus- who, of course, knew exactly how everyone walked. They knew the ways everyone walked, the ways everyone carried themselves, the ways they spoke and the ways they lied, and a million other of the slightest details. It had started as a point of pride to learn it all, but it was steadily becoming a fixation. 

Janus uncoiled from their chair and slithered out of their room, finding Patton just a pace away from the door.

He dipped back a couple steps, “Oh, hi!”

“Hello,” Janus nodded to him, “You were coming to get me, I assume?”

“Yup! Just finished up downstairs,” If he was taken aback, he hid it well, recovering with a laugh. If he was so keen to pretend this was all quite normal, well, then Janus would of course play along.

“Wonderful. Shall we?” 

They extended a glove hand, mostly in jest. Only, Patton didn’t seem to catch the ‘in jest’ part, a pleased smile crossing his face as he took Janus’ hand in his. Before they could protest (not that they were going to, per se), Patton was leading them to his room, clicking the door open and steering the snake inside.

Immediately Janus was hit with the scent of several separate holidays, cardboard-backed children’s books, and a distinctly _ Toys-R-Us  _ kind of plastic. The aura wasn’t that of a child’s room, however, but much more of a guardian’s, one that had grown used to and affectionate of such smells and the objects/times associated with them. It was very fitting, to say the least.

In terms of décor, well, there sure was a lot of it. Several ceramic and wooden figurines- fit for thrift stores, most of them animals or cute little scenes, some being angels in various positions- were scattered around the room on every surface. They were kitschy, sure, but very, very Patton, and that alone gave them charm. There were also stacks and stacks of art supplies. Mostly bracelet-making equipment, sewing and embroidery work, spools of yarn, and felt strewn about, often alongside the finished products made from them. Most of it was to be expected, but Janus did find themself impressed by the craftsmanship in some of Patton’s pieces anyway. 

Everything was a little soft, perhaps thanks to the glow of the lights that made the world feel vaguely dream-like. It was warm, too, like the whole room was an electric blanket just waiting to wrap someone up; it felt safe.

“Oh,  _ hideous _ abode, Patton,” Janus almost purred. They found themself getting comfortable upon the couch with little hesitation, tucking themself into the corner in an undignified way they scarcely showed outside of their own room.

Patton caught the lie after a second’s pause, giggling. “Aww, thank you!” 

Janus crossed one leg over the other, a much more dignified laugh of their own rolling from their mouth. They watched in silence as Patton entered the room himself, flitting between a couple of overflowing shelves and adjusting things that didn’t seem to need adjusting. His demeanor was hardly stressed, however, and it wasn’t nervous either; straightening the little figurines and such seemed completely mindless to him. Interesting. 

“Okay, so! I didn’t have a plan for today, or anything, but there’s definitely plenty to do!” Patton wove around the room as he spoke, casual.

Janus surveyed the floor, leaning down to the floor to inspect a small, egg-shaped hunk of plastic. They tipped it over to find it was an ancient, dead-batteried  _ Tamagotchi _ , it’s chain tangled up with a verifiable hoard of similar keychain trinkets fit for the 90s. 

“Sorry about the mess,” Patton added, as though he’d only then noticed that his room wasn’t spick-and-span.

“Mess? All seems perfectly organized to me,” Janus smirked at him, a little teasing. They leaned back in their seat, then, and gestured to the spot beside them with a loose hand. “But for the time being, perhaps we could keep it to talking.”

Patton’s smile widened- it seemed to do that quite a lot- and he nodded. Scooping up a thick ball of yarn and a pair of needles into his arms, Morality sat next to Janus with a contented hum.

There was a moment of silence as he untangled the wool from the wood, getting set up to knit, and Janus got the distinct impression that they  _ were _ here for a reason.

“There, um, there’s just this something I’ve been meaning to talk to you about, Jay- Janus,” yes, right on the money as usual. While Patton looked abashed at his nickname slip-up, Janus didn’t comment, levelling the side with a silent stare and simply waiting for him to finish. 

He didn’t. He fiddled with his project, looking quite nervous, but saying nothing. So, clearly this wasn’t going to be a  _ fun  _ conversation- teach Janus to dare hoping for a little peace, they supposed. 

“Well, what is it?” They caved, “I’m all ears.”

Patton put on a noncommittal expression- at the very least that’s what Janus assumed it to be, strained and plastic as it was. In return, they offered a worn no-nonsense scowl; he promptly dropped the farce at that, settling for that honest melancholy.

“Janus,” he said, in such seriousness, and Janus could have guessed many things he was likely to say, and all of them would have been shockingly wrong.

“Yes, Patton?”

He took a deep breath. “I… I want to help you.”

At first, naturally, they thought they misheard. Surely, he was asking them for help- which of course they would happily provide? Certainly, this was another cry for assistance in their budding friendship, in which Janus took every care to guide him through difficult times? Nevermind that he’d been steadily more and more his usual self after these months post-wedding, because there couldn’t be another thing he meant. 

But Janus was smarter than that, and they couldn’t avoid the fact he meant just what he said just how he said it. Janus blanched, fixing their companion with a narrowed, disbelieving stare. What on  _ earth  _ did _ they _ need help with? That Patton had the ability to fix?

To their surprise, Patton’s face went immediately somber. And though they didn’t know why, they were schooling their expression back from shock so quickly that they might’ve employed a touch of shape-shifting to get it back to normal. Whatever the circumstance, a sad Patton was not a good conversationalist. 

“I’m afraid I don’t understand,” Janus tried, meekly.

Patton chewed the inside of his cheek, clicking his knitting needles together, and said:

“I want to help you get along with the others..”

Janus blinked once, twice, sitting very still. That answer was hardly an answer, really, making them more confused and just a touch more wary.

“To be clear,” they dragged, “You’re saying… that you want to help me make friends?”

Patton cringed. “I didn’t want it to sound that- um, patronizing, but. Basically, yeah.”

Janus had a lot of Thoughts about that, it was a shame they didn’t know what many of them were. 

There was a far too lengthy stretch of silence as they, figuratively speaking, turned the proposition over a few times, looking at its angles. Help. Making friends. As though they were a particularly stand-offish middle schooler, approached by the “generous” popular crowd (although a more accurate comparison to Patton would not be nearly as mean, not by a long shot). 

They laughed.

It was short, pitchy, and shrill, and they laughed. Patton was startled, obviously, but they hacked out some words before he could say so much as  _ ‘what’. _

“Oh, honey, that-” a particularly kettlish sound found its way from their mouth, “That is a  _ great idea _ .”

Patton made an affronted little sound, like a chirp, and glared indignantly, determinedly, across at them. 

“Janus, I’m not going to pressure you on this, but I’m really being serious here!” He snapped- actually  _ snapping _ , Patton was, not just sniffling or snipping or muttering. Janus wrung out all their laughs, and choked down their smirk. They tried to meet his eyes steadily, masking their concern. 

“Yes, I know you are,” they amended, “That’s what I do best, to know how people mean to say things. And, Dear, it is a very sweet gesture, but I’d rather not put it to practice.”

“Well, why not?” Patton dropped his yarn and needles, turning to fully face Janus; in his eyes was a challenge. “I see how everybody treats you, and it’s  _ wrong _ ,” his voice rang with conviction, strong enough that it was hard not to feel swayed, or at the very least touched. “And they only treat you like that because of  _ me _ . So why can’t I help fix it?”

Janus sighed. A heaving, resigned, breathy sigh, because they knew just how strong their companion’s will could be when he believed something. Which didn’t have to be a bad thing, of course, but… 

But why not? Now, that was a very complicated question, and one that Janus had thought long about on their own. 

Why not? Well, for one, Janus was no  _ good  _ at friends. Their friendship with Remus was borne from Remus’ own stubborn determination to hang around them, as well as it’s preternatural ability to see right through them like nobody else. And it was easy enough to tell that Patton was the one doing all the real work in his budding camaraderie with Janus, what with all his adjustments and check-ins and compromises. 

Why not? Because Janus could do their job perfectly well without bonding to every side in sight. Their function clashed so ferociously with most everyone else’s, it was actually easier to keep a distance- not like Patton’s job of emotions, Roman’s job of love, et cetera et cetera. The loneliness left them with a clear head, and at least someone around the mindpalace ought to have one of those.

Why not, though,  _ really? _

Janus tented their fingers in their lap, and said:

“The way they treat me  _ isn’t  _ necessary.”

Patton’s face, it was always so full of life and feeling, but it went stone in that moment. Horribly nothing.

“What do you mean by that?” 

Quite suddenly, Janus no longer felt in control of the situation. Hardly the cool, observant interrogator that they usually knew themself to be, gathering information and revealing nothing. But the role was flipped perfectly on its head, and Janus didn’t care for it at all, feeling appropriately like an upside-down turtle. What made it all the worse was the way that Patton held his new role. It wasn’t an interrogator at all.

More of a psychiatrist.

Janus sat back in their seat, forcing their muscles to untense until they felt even more knotted. They hoped something would tear, just for relief.

“I only mean,” Janus would diminish it, make it small and save face. “That I’m not made for friendship. I don’t do well with others, you know, and it really isn’t an issue.”

Patton’s face stayed pensive for too long. When it broke- congealing into a mass of emotions too many to count- Janus was sure it was the loveliest relief God could’ve given. Patton looked like  _ Patton  _ again, not something so knowing and so understanding and so frightening. 

(But, if Janus focused, they could see all of that perception beneath him now, like a spell was lifted. They decided not to focus.)

Eventually, Patton did have to speak: it was in the hushed tones of nostalgia and bittersweet memories, soft and broken. It was so  _ him _ , but so  _ not _ , and Lord, did Janus know anything about this man?

“Logan used to think like that,” he confided, his fingers ghosting at imaginary threads on his sleeves. “A long while ago. We didn’t know if ae’d ever get past it, actually.”

Oh, no no  _ no _ , Janus took it back- this was no  _ gift _ . The way he appealed to them emotionally- if Janus wasn’t careful it would be so much worse. They held themself up firmer, like they could build a physical border between themself and vulnerability from strain alone. They could no longer meet Patton’s eyes as he talked. 

“Ae was worried that all those feelings were the opposite of what ae was supposed to be, I think. And we told aer, that wasn’t all ae had to be, but Logan was always kinda a bad listener. It got to the point, once, when ae wasn’t even leaving aer  _ room _ …”

Janus stared at the carpet. Mapped the stains, and tried to keep their breathing quiet. 

“Why are you telling me this?” it was a bark, harsher than they could’ve meant. Patton didn’t even blink. 

“I’m telling you,” he whispered, “Because I think Logan would relate to how you feel.”

Janus was sure they were going to laugh in his face, but when they turned on him they ended up with a  _ hiss _ . They sensed their fangs springing forward in their mouth, too far and too threatening to ever be human, spitting like a viper. 

“Because you know  _ exactly  _ how I feel, don’t you!?” They snarled indignantly, and if it weren’t for their gloves they might have shredded the upholstery of Patton’s couch. “You’re making  _ ssso  _ much  _ sssenss _ e, Morality, and it’s ju _ sss _ t so obviou _ sss _ to me why you’ve chosen to in _ ssss _ ert yourself into my per _ sss _ \- my per _ ssss _ \-  _ my personal life _ !”

The realization came too late. Janus slapped a hand over their lying mouth, the one that could never fit their fangs properly when they got so upset. Their eyes were wide and disgustingly open, watching with pathetic fear for Patton’s reaction. 

But they’d already given away so much, too much, and all for him. They’d broken so  _ easily  _ for him, and failed themself completely in the process. Jesus, what was it about him? What was it that could dig under their skin like that?

He looked surprised. Not as much as he should have. And to Janus’ profound humiliation, they saw him discreetly wipe a bit of spit from his face, before letting his knuckles rest on beneath his glasses, on his cheek. 

“I’m sorry,” were the first words from Patton’s mouth (which only sent Janus  _ more _ reeling), “I’m sorry, Janus, and I know you don’t have to do this just because I think it’ll help. I just- I can’t stand it anymore, you know?”

And Janus would regret it, because curiosity killed the cat. But it was their flaw, they couldn’t stop it, it was their job to know the things that others kept quiet.

“...Can’t stand what, exactly?”

When Patton sighed, world-weary and sympathetic.

“I see the hoops that you have to jump through. I can’t bear it, watching you walking on eggshells with everyone. This- we’re supposed to be your  _ family _ . I just want you to be… comfortable with us. With yourself, too!”

Oh-ho, he was a perceptive little thing, wasn’t he? 

Janus felt like a cactus, or maybe a sheet of ancient, rough fabric- something prickly and uncomfortable and precisely the opposite of soft. They didn’t _ want _ to talk about this, and they didn’t trust themself to do it properly anymore, but it seemed their body was perfectly content to keep on disobeying them:

“Why do you  _ care _ ?”

It was said as a challenge, but Patton looked visibly heartbroken. He dropped his knitting- which had somehow survived the way his fingers had been forcing it around- and inched down the couch. Janus mirrored him backwards, but they didn’t have much of anywhere to go. 

“Janus,” Patton whispered, and Janus  _ shivered _ , “You know that I care about you, right?” 

Janus stayed quiet, looking anywhere but him. They couldn’t even muster up a lie.

“Oh,” Patton’s voice just about  _ broke _ , “Could I- is it okay if I touch you?”

Janus finally forced themself to see him, words on the tip of their tongue but they couldn’t know which ones. They simply had to nod. 

Patton reached out, frowning, and twined his round, stubby fingers with Janus’ slim ones. Gently, he ran his thumb over their knuckles, the pad as calloused and rough as the rest of his palm was. It was so nice, and so unfamiliar, that they almost wished they weren’t wearing their gloves for it.

“Well, now you know,” he whispered. “That I care, I mean. Because I do. A bunch.”

Janus had felt many things in the midst of this conversation that they were just  _ really  _ enjoying, but something about that  _ hurt  _ in particular. A chord was struck- or more accurately, a chord was prodded, by accident and not all that aggressive. The sensation was new, strange. Perhaps it felt good, in actuality.

It was fondness.

“I suppose I do know,” they sent Patton a weak smirk, squeezing his hand. “Seeing that it's you, though, I’m sure it’ll be the last time you tell me as much.”

Something about the tease made the sadness on Patton’s face melt into a grin. “Oh,  _ definitely _ .”

He winked ridiculously, and Janus laughed. Not shrill and shrieking, not to flash their wicked teeth; just a small, low chuckle. It felt nice. 

It was unavoidable that Janus felt themself finally, finally relaxing, sinking into the couch. Something warm was stirring below their ribs, and they didn’t have the want or will to do away with it just yet. They didn’t have the energy, too, either- They were  _ tired _ , cathartically so, and the easy weight of Patton’s hand in theirs certainly wasn’t helping. 

They were content to let that be the end of it. Maybe play it off as though Patton’s original suggestion- one that still made them rather queasy- had been forgotten. They knew he wouldn’t press them about it. 

Which is exactly why they…  _ couldn’t _ do that. Well, they could, but taking that advantage over him made them feel even iller. How genuine of them.  _ Ugh. _

“If you’re truly oh-so set on being worried about me- not that it’s necessary, mind you,” they began after what must have been fifteen minutes, with their eyes laid on the wall. “Then I suppose I  _ couldn’t  _ find it in myself to rope Logan into some kind of philosophical debate, sometime within the week. I make no promises, though,” they turned their gaze on him, scrutinizing, then. “Would that be good enough for you?”

Patton met their eyes all alight with hope, surprise, and a mash of other effects in those frog-like pupils of his. He took Janus’ other hand and held both of them tightly, beaming like he couldn’t help it.

“Whatever you’re comfortable with right now is just perfect, Janus,” Patton promised, “Just- thank you for hearing me out.”

Janus couldn’t let the words roll off their shoulders, not when another wave of endearment came bearing down on them so strongly. They were sure the human side of their face was flushed bright, the genuine smile stuck on their lips making it all the more noticeable.

Maybe a little more socialization wouldn’t be the death of them. Not if it gave them a feeling like  _ this _ again. 

_ “The snake which cannot cast its skin has to die. As well as the minds which are prevented from changing their opinions; they cease to be mind.” - Friedrich Nietzsche  _

Janus stood rigidly in the Mindpalace Library/Memory Bank, glaring at Logan’s back, already on the fast track to changing their mind about all of this. 

Ae hadn’t yet seen them, distracted with some reorganizing of the older tomes lining the shelves, but somehow the air still felt tense. Every shuffle, every brush of a book’s spine, had Janus more and more pressed to speak up. They could not bring themself to. 

There was time still to leave, to just turn around and walk out. Better yet, sink away and not risk the click of their shoes giving them away, like they’d never been there. Or they could even breeze right past Logan, slip a book from the shelf, and not acknowledge aer at all. It would be so  _ easy _ ; they were in the library almost as much as aer, it wasn’t like it would be out of the ordinary. Yes, that was it- they’d act, quite civilly, as if Logan wasn’t there at all. Then they wouldn’t have to see that look ae always had for them- a disdaining appraisal, like ae was picking them apart bit by bit and growing increasingly disappointed by what was underneath, that was the look. They’d feel the eyes on their back, sure, but if they didn’t have to  _ see  _ it, it remained a victory.

Janus almost did it. But their mind flashed at them an upsetting image- the sight of Patton, the look that  _ he’d  _ send them once he figured out what had happened (which he had a knack for doing. An infuriating, precise little knack). Not angry, just… disappointed. 

It seemed leagues worse than anything Logan would give them, somehow. 

Janus bit back a sigh. 

“So,” they watched Logan jump like a cat, spinning around on aer heel. Aer wide eyes were the only expressive thing about aer face, which wasn’t unusual. Janus gave aer a measured smirk. “Anything you’d recommend?” 

Logan blinked at them, for a moment speechless, before clearing aer throat and glancing away. The book in aer hands was shifted one side to the other, before ae pushed it back onto the shelf with a jerky movement. 

Janus tracked the book with their eyes, catching sight of a garish and colorful cover, the font on the spine positively whimsical. Which made it very obvious that ae had shelved it in the wrong section, as it contrasted starkly with the dark browns and beiges around it; it was  _ disorderly _ . Clearly, Janus noted, Logan was uncomfortable. 

“Good afternoon, Janus. Is there something in particular that you’re looking for?”

Logan’s tone was short, but not hostile- civil forever and always. Janus approached cautiously further, pretending to survey the shelves. 

Nothing in the library stayed organized for long, really, and trying to make it so was entirely hopeless. Roman, Remus, and Patton all held the belief that novels (and memories) ought to be arranged by size and color. To anyone with a brain- and the left oriented half of the mindscape did have considerable access to the brain- that was obviously insane, because books were organized by author’s last name,  _ obviously _ . Thus, the Book Cold-War had been instated, and no peace treaty was in sight. 

“Well, I would be looking, but I don’t think I’d get very far,” Janus joked.

Logan made a sound that could have been a laugh, if ae hadn't stifled it so hastily. Janus was spurred on by it nonetheless.

“Yes, my apologies,” ae coughed politely, “I  _ do _ keep a close eye on these books, but every time I visit again I find that Roman’s already color-coded all of them,  _ again _ . I have no idea how he has the time,” Logan’s words started off derisive, though ae was aloof as ever, but there was fondness behind aer eyes that was unmistakable. Janus sprang on it. 

“I can’t imagine keeping him in line is easy,” they drawled, watching Logan’s reaction carefully. 

Ae shrugged. Aer fingers stalled in their tracing of the bookshelves, and that was the one sign of aer surprise. 

_ How very cocky of you,  _ Janus told themself, after ae’d stayed quiet;  _ Crush-talk, hardly aer style and definitely not  _ yours _ , when everyone knows you can’t be trusted with that kind of information.  _

They made the next attempt; failing the conversation was not an option. “Anyway, as I was saying, Logan, is there anything you could recommend to me? Particularly non-fiction or the like, something nice and dense.”

“Oh- yes, of course. Let me see…”

“Do,” Janus tried to approximate a pleasant smile, “Let’s.”

Ae took the redirection easily, just as expected. Logan scanned the books just in front of aer (seeming, for the first time in the interaction, focused), and shook aer head. 

“Hmm,” ae turned to inspect another shelf, nodding to aerself, “You enjoy philosophy, correct?”

“I  _ hate  _ it, yes.”

They weren’t quite sure, as aer face was mostly turned away from them, but Janus thought they saw the beginning of a smile. Yes! 

“I’m sure you know this, of course,” Janus went on, smugly, “But there’s something very relaxing about sifting through thousands upon thousands of words on expansive theories that  _ totally couldn’t _ be summarized in a one, maybe two page essay. Then again, a concise philosopher would be like a flying pig.”

“Well, just look at Kant,” Logan tilted aer head back to look at Janus, and yes, a smile was very much visible. “Essentially unintelligible, and somehow he’s managed to write so much and gain notoriety anyway.”

Before Janus could catch themself, they were laughing in earnest, leaning forwards to say:

“Who knew that an elderly, presumably heterosexual white man would have so much confidence saying things things that make absolutely no sense?”

They caught themself too late, as their eyes went wide and they straightened back up at once. That was a much too emotional display, it was a  _ risk _ \- they could barely bring themself to keep Logan’s gaze. 

“And yet,” ae began, after a beat, “We’ve both read his entire body of work, haven’t we?” 

Janus took a moment to recognize the joke before managing to chuckle. It was strained, full of relief, but Logan didn’t comment.

“Of course I have. I need to know what I’m talking about. Besides, I think I’ve become very patient with nonsense.”

“Well, you’d have to be,” ae reached forward quite suddenly, pulling a light beige book from one of the shelves. It was a hefty thing, and from the dust caking its spine Janus thought it must have been very old. Logan smirked. “I can’t imagine that keeping Remus in line is easy.”

Janus blinked, startled, as the call back clicked. Two jokes in a row? from  _ Logan _ ? 

So they couldn’t help but laugh- more out of surprise than anything- in their second-ever show of genuine emotion in front of Logan Sanders. It was much less frightening the second time, even if it was perhaps uncomfortable.

Before Janus could register it, a book was being pressed into their hands. Logan was standing expectantly in front of them, aer head tilted to one side and aer hands folded. Ae was smiling comfortably now, barely bothering to remain impassive.  _ Patton hadn’t been kidding about that improvement of aers, oh my. _

Janus glanced down at the book they’d been handed, wiping their thumb across the cover. The dust rolled up against the cloth of their glove, and they could almost feel it; not quite sticky, not quite smooth.

“Oh-  _ no  _ thank you,” they said. 

“Of course. I enjoy sharing my interests with others, especially things of the more intellectual nature.” 

Janus met aer eyes again, suspicious. “With just anyone?”

“Anyone who wants to hear about it, yes. Anyone who wants to share or exchange information deserves to be able to. They would be ‘my kind of person’, so to say.”

Janus’ grip on the book tightened. Was that good? That did seem good. Being… aer kind of person. It at least  _ felt _ sort of nice. 

“We definitely  _ shouldn’t  _ do this again sometime?” That was what people said when an interaction went well, wasn’t it? Janus was eighty-percent sure. 

“Do… what, exactly?”

Fuck.

“Uh, oh, you know- erm-... talk?” 

Logan only looked more confused, driving home the point that they had no idea what they were doing. 

“You- Really?” Ae blurted, “I must admit, Janus, I was under the impression that you didn’t like me.” 

Janus opened their mouth, with no idea what to say. They closed it, floundering, looking at Logan in obvious surprise. Ae had an almost matching expression.

“You are typically very standoffish,” ae politely explained, “On the few occasions that we have talked in the past, you always found a way to exit the situation as soon as possible. I had always assumed that you did not enjoy my company.”

“No! I mean-” Janus cursed to themself, “I just- I had always thought _you_ weren’t, you know, so fond of _me_.”

Logan’s eyes narrowed uncertainly behind aer glasses, “Why did you think that?”

‘ _ Because most everyone isn’t,’  _ was just a little bit too pathetic and angsty for Janus’ taste, so they settled for something a little more deflective. 

“You’ve got a very  _ warm  _ demeanor, you always just made me feel so _ welcomed _ .”

“Oh,” Logan flushed, ever-so-slightly. The look didn’t suit aer well, nor did the way ae casted aer eyes to the floor and looked legitimately embarrassed. “This is not the first time I’ve been told that I appear to be- um, rude, to people who do not know me very well,” ae shifted aer feet uncomfortably. “I’ve been working on it.”

Janus nearly winced, a pang of guilt striking them. 

Patton had told them about this- that Logan was far more approachable than ae looked. Ae wasn’t quite so good at showing it, and…

Yes, fine, sure, Janus _ might _ have been able to relate to that. A little. 

“Well, we both seem to have gotten off on the wrong foot,” Janus cleared their throat, standing up taller than they felt. They stuck out their free hand. 

Logan stared at it for a moment as though ae wasn’t quite sure what to do with it. Ae blinked, and aer eyes suddenly glinted with a wonderful bit of humor. 

“Yes, it seems that way,” Logan smiled. Ae clasped their hand in aers, and shook it evenly.

“Janus Sanders, lovely to meet you.”

“Logan Sanders, the same to you.” 

“My, do you think we might be related?”

“It’s very likely, yes.”

They shared small, amused nods. 

“How lovely. I suppose we’ll be seeing each other around?”

“I suppose we will.”

They pulled back at the same moment, staring briefly at each other. Janus first cleared their throat, thanking Logan once more for the book and the chat. Ae waved them off, seamlessly returning to the reorganizing task in front of aer, as if nothing had happened at all. Janus would be lying (ha) if they said they weren’t tempted to stay, but they decided not to press their luck any further. 

Without even glancing at it, Janus tucked Logan’s book beneath their arm, sinking out of the library and back to their room. 

Janus was now immutably determined to pick Logan apart, to read aer like any other book in the library. They hadn’t had the key to aer before, they could admit, but there wasn’t a person or creature Janus couldn’t deconstruct entirely, and they could honestly use the challenge. They looked forward to examining aer, to be blunt with it. 

The trait had been so responsive! They really ought to jot down all of the behaviors that ae’d reacted favorably to and memorize them, to keep themself in high regard for as long as possible. 

Janus had to resist the urge to bounce in excitement. Maybe they  _ could  _ worm themself a little spot in the lives of other sides, just like they wormed their way into a seat at the table, how they’d wormed their way into that first discussion those few years ago. What a strangely wonderful idea. They were perhaps a little enthused to tell Patton about it, as well as detail all the progress with Logan for him. 

They looked around, making sure they were entirely alone. Which, of course, they were. 

Janus grinned widely, not thinking about much besides hope and, maybe, gratitude.

“Logan gave you a book?”

“Yes, ae did. I’m looking forward to reading it.”

“What’s it called?”

“Hm?”

Janus looked up from the grain of the table, meeting Patton’s eyes across their tea set. Patton was staring curiously back at them, drumming his fingers against the handle of his teacup. 

“The book, what is it called?” 

Oh. Right.

Janus reached their hand under the table as slowly as they could, maintaining eye-contact with Patton the whole time. And then, still unblinking, they swished their wrist beneath the cover of wood. The book fell into their hand- they stumbled to catch it right, but it worked out in the end- and they very, very subtly moved it to rest on their thigh.

They broke eye-contact for only long enough to glimpse the cover. 

“ _ Natural Law and Natural Rights _ . It’s philosophical.”

Patton giggled, tracking Janus’ antics with enough attention to make them flustered and bright (if they were prone to that kind of thing, which they of course  _ were not _ ).

“I guess you were a little distracted when you got it?” 

Janus swiped the book back out of existence and glared down at their plate. Not especially angry, but more embarrassed about the whole ordeal than they really ought to have been. 

“Well, I had to say the correct things, it’s hardly an easy task,” they protested, more or less whining. Patton burst into giggling and snorts, covering his mouth with his hand as he did so. Janus turned their glare from the dishware onto him, trying very hard to avoid downright pouting. 

“Oh my gosh, that’s adorable! I didn’t know you were that nervous to talk to aer.”

“‘Nervous’ isn’t the word I’d use, exactly- but that has nothing to do with focusing on my speech,” they folded their hands together, glancing up at Patton. “It’s  _ much easier _ when I’m not as familiar with my companion, obviously.”

Patton wore a strange expression that they didn’t care for at all, and frankly made them feel like they were crazy. 

“But if you weren’t nervous, why were you trying so hard?”

Janus felt a burst of exasperation. “Well, I always think before I speak, Patton.”

Patton hummed, but that  _ look  _ was still on his face, vacant and unplaceable. Janus tried hard not to twist in their seat; what did he  _ want _ ? They hadn’t told so much as a white lie by that point! Whatever Patton knew or suspected about them, they didn’t, and  _ that  _ was unacceptable. 

But then, whiplash-quick, the topic changed

“So, who’s next?”

“Next…?” Janus blanched. 

“Yeah! Who’s next up on the friend list? You’ve already checked off Logan- Remus is a no brainer- and especially me! And- um, we should probably save Virgil for last, maybe. Which means Roman’s the only one left, so let’s try him!” 

Janus, cottoning on, felt the sick urge to laugh. They didn’t, but their hands stuttered and fidgeted without their will. They managed to force down onto the table and tried to tell him, politely, why that was a horrible, horrible idea.

“Oh, Patton- no, no, no, that’s not going to happen.”

So perhaps they didn’t do the best job of  _ polite _ . 

“Why not?” Patton stared defiantly at Janus, giving them the impression that he’d expected that kind of response. “You did so well with Logan, just like I knew you would!”

Janus made a sound between a scoff and an inhale, tapping the table incessantly. 

“So what if I did? That’s a different matter. And even so, we’ve really only had one pleasant conversation, it’s hardly anything to celebrate. Don’t get so ahead of yourself, Morality.”

The second Patton’s eyes went dull, Janus knew they’d shut down on him. With no tact whatsoever, they’d slammed apathy onto the table and hidden away inside themself, with their fear clutched to their chest like precious pearls. 

“I got a little overeager, huh?” Patton smiled, hollowly, by way of a sorry. He sounded so horridly disappointed that Janus just wanted to- to do  _ something _ about it. “You take all the time you need, okay? We won’t talk about this until you’re comfortable with it, and comfortable with Logan. And- and me, for that matter.”

Janus chewed the inside of their cheek, letting the fat flesh go numb under their fangs’ ministrations. Moments like these, it seemed to Janus, screamed out just why Patton’s idea was so dangerous. Because  _ this  _ was how they treated friends, whether they liked it or not, and to put the others through that would be cruelty. 

But they’d never tell him that. He thought they could do better, and they cared for themself just enough not to ruin that optimism. So, instead, Janus said something that wasn’t really relevant, that was besides the point, that they felt somewhere in their chest had the potential to be true anyway. 

“Don’t give me that. You know that I’m  _ not  _ comfortable with you, Patton, that’s why I agreed to any of this in the first place. 

It worked amazingly; Patton looked ready to speak again, but something in the set of his shoulders eased down, and he grinned. He was letting Janus deflect, they both knew that, but with the warmth in his eyes the room lost its tension; anyone could see that his happiness was genuine. 

Janus almost cracked a smile in return. Their eyes must have been sparkling. 

“I didn’t know, actually,” Patton confided, “It’s good to know. Thanks for telling me.”

“Of course.”

They weren’t about to tell him that they didn’t intend on ever befriending Roman, when such a glowing adoration was on Patton’s face. He could think whatever he wanted. 

But if they wouldn’t do that, they argued to themself, they ought to do something else. For themself, or for Patton, it didn’t matter, but they could promise not to abandon the relationships they were already building. Three was a perfectly normal-sized pool of friends, not too high maintenance, and not hot-pockets-for-dinner levels of depressing, either. And if somehow it all went wrong, well,  _ then  _ they could think about going back to normal, but for now… 

For now, Janus watched Patton, and they waited. And they thought. 

_ “Do not spoil what you do have by desiring what you have not; remember that what you now have was once among the things you only hoped for.” - Epicurus _

The living room was loud. Shrieking laughs and overlapping chatter shot through the halls of the Mindpalace, probably audible in every corner of the main house. Tucked away on a brown leather chair within  _ their  _ corner, Janus tried to find it annoying.

They weren’t doing a good job of it.

The peals of laughter were contagious, and they didn’t even know the joke. Each hurried sentence, unintelligible, made them wish nothing more than to respond. It made their ears ring, but it was nothing short of  _ magnetic.  _

For the past twenty minutes Janus had ignored the pull. They had not moved from the chair, nor had they so much as shifted their position; it seemed like the only way to restrain themself was to imagine, stupidly, that they were a marble statue in a little box, in some kind of museum. If they moved- which they couldn’t, they pretended- the glass of said box would surely shatter. 

It should go without saying that they were anxious, socially speaking. They had no reason not to walk right down to the living room; the speed and volume of the talking easily made it that Logan and Remus were the two talking, both of whom seemed to like them, and both of whom liked to rope in as many people as possible with any given conversation. To add another point onto the  _ absolute security  _ of the situation, Janus knew that Roman and Virgil were nowhere nearby (the former hard at work, the latter likely having a rest somewhere deep in the subconscious). There was so little risk. There was more than enough reward. They  _ wanted _ to join, if only they could move their stubborn, shaking body. 

A week and a half since their tea with Patton, and still, the trouble was the same. The  _ anxiety _ . 

Something crashed downstairs, sounding a hell of a lot like a vase. Following: short words, and more cackling. 

Janus uncrossed their legs, setting their feet down stiffly on the floor (they imagined as they moved, that their skin grinded and cracked like stone, with no idea why that was helping so much). Their hands gripped the armrests, and, haltingly, Janus stood. They let go of the leather, not needing to look to tell that they’d clawed finger-point holes into the upholstery (up- _ hole _ -stery, a suspiciously Patton-like voice said in their head). 

This was fine. This was no big deal. They were walking across their room, and they’d leave. They’d walk downstairs, look like they were making for the kitchen, and then casually ‘notice’ the other sides. Maybe they’d say hello, just on their way to get something to eat, get out of their room- they’d say, _you know how it is_ , or something similar. And if they just so happen to get caught up in conversation, well, such things happen all the time. 

Janus shut their door behind themself once they were certain the hallway was empty. The ruckus was even worse out there, simultaneously urging them to turn back around and keep going, somehow. 

Janus darted too-quick down the stairs, sliding into the living room to find exactly the scene they’d expected: 

Remus was sprawled out on the small table behind the shorter side of the sectional, its legs kicking up and down as it rested its chin in its hand. Logan was sitting in the accompanying chair, pulled back to the bookshelf to give aerself at least a little personal space. Ae looked completely absorbed, talking to Remus with a small smile stretched across aer face and aer hands moving absentmindedly. Remus looked attentive, even if it was toying with a pile of light-blue glass collected in front of it. 

Janus stepped lightly, not knowing if they wanted to be seen. Either way, they only made it halfway into the room before Remus’ preternatural sense of hearing made the choice for them. 

It swung its head around to look at them, smiling surprisedly. 

“Hey, J.D.!” It called, “Where are you tiptoeing around to? Escaping the scene of a crime, or going to commit one?” 

Logan glanced at them, too, letting aer rambling trail off. With the undivided attention of two whole entities given to them with perhaps three seconds warning, Janus had no choice but to panic, slightly. 

“Oh, here is fine, I’m going here- That’s to say, I  _ am  _ here,” they coughed, “And I’m going to the kitchen. For food, of course.”

Remus laughed at them- which wasn’t entirely unfair- and flashed an ‘O.K.’ sign with its fingers. Just like that, it turned back to Logan- who had, after a pause, resumed speaking. While Janus had not made any move to leave. And continued to not do that. And was still not moving when Logan began to shoot them confused little looks from the corner of aer eyes. 

Speaking of corners, that was exactly what Janus had backed himself into. In a stunning display of their perpetual poor decision-making, Janus decided booking it for the kitchen was the thing to do. Unfortunately, the coffee table existing impeded this considerably.

Their shin hit the corner, they went down, hard. 

“Holy shit!” Remus shouted, jumping off the table. 

Janus chose to submit to the floor, kicking their leg off the end table and lying face-flat on the carpet. This could  _ not  _ have gone worse. The least they could do was dissociate into the carpet.

“Janus,” that was Logan- “Are you alright?”

Ow. Ow to the ego and to their leg.

“Physically?  _ Sure _ , perfectly fine.”

There was a creak, another set of footsteps, and then a weight dropped itself down onto Janus’ back. They let out a small ‘oof’, but otherwise didn’t react as Remus made itself comfortable on them. This was fine. 

“Uh-oh, that’s their brooding tone,” to Logan, it mock-whispered, “I know to the untrained ear, all the bitching probably sounds the same, though.”

Janus raised their head from the carpet and propped themself on their elbows, making a very hard effort of glaring at Remus. 

“It is  _ not  _ my-”

Remus shoved their head back down into the floor. They didn’t fight, only huffed. 

“Well, then, what’s wrong? Aside from the falling, of course,” Logan asked, politely. 

Janus made a vague sound in the back of their throat, and snapped: “Nothing’s wrong at all, can’t you tell? That’s why I snuck my way down the stairs, stared at you for four minutes, and then collapsed to the ground. Nothing out of the ordinary there!” 

“Ah. I get the impression that you’re being sarcastic.”

Janus huffed into the carpet. 

“Remus, if you could get off me, I would really like to get to the kitchen now.”

Remus hummed- a fly-buzz sound that burrowed into Janus’ ear- as if considering the request. D

“I don’t think you do want me to do that, actually,” it said.

“You don’t think  _ at all _ .”

It cackled loudly, very very loudly, dear _god_ , and right next their ear. Janus summoned their extra arms and struggled, wedging their middle pair beneath themself and pushing forcefully up. Remus lost its grip and fell, but otherwise looked entirely unaffected. 

As soon as they were free Janus stood, without looking, and as such headbutted Logan’s jaw. Oh, goddammit. 

“Sorry!” They caught aer arm, let go just as quick. “I’ll- I should go-”

“It’s quite alright,” Logan assured, “It was evidently an accident, there’s no harm done.”

Janus, who’s humiliation had long since become a physically painful sensation, was inclined to disagree.

“If there is something causing your frantic behavior, then please, feel free to stay,” ae continued, “I’ve been told that I give good advice, sometimes.” 

Janus blinked, surprised- and perhaps endeared- to know that ae was so willing and ready to- to what? To console them, it sounded like. The idea was sickening. 

“Oh,  _ no _ , no thank you,” not that they’d ever take an offer like that, no matter how generous. Janus turned on their heel, and Remus was in front of their face again, because  _ why wouldn’t  _ it be, when everything else in the world had already decided Janus would have a Horrible Day. The joke was on them for trying not to, apparently. 

They met its gaze with everything approaching grace. Until it leaned in and licked the side of their face. Death would have been a mercy at this point.

“ _ Urgh! _ ”

“Yup!” Remus said importantly, “You’re doing the thing again,” it turned to Logan, lowering its voice and nodding. “They’re doing the thing again.” 

Ae cocked aer head, “The thing-?”

“The thing! Where they lurk around until somebody notices them and pretend that they aren’t just looking for attention, because they don’t use their words. It’s like when a cat gets you to pet it and then shreds the fuck out of your skin.” 

The human half of Janus’ face flushed indignantly, their lips curling back in offense. Remus didn’t blink; it knew that it was right on the money, the little shit. 

“I am  _ not _ -” they were. 

“Janus?”

The snake shut their mouth with a snap, shooting Logan a forced glare. 

“Would you like to stay and talk with us? I don’t- particularly know  _ what  _ it was we were talking about, but you are certainly welcome to join us.”

Janus paused, shifting uncomfortably from foot to foot. Aer sincerity, though subtle, was becoming easier and easier to spot- but it still threw them off when it popped up. 

“I-”

“They want to,” Remus was uncharacteristically clipped, staring them down with an eerie seriousity. “Janus? It’s alright. You’re good.”

It had a knack for knowing what to say that Janus, when they’d first come into existence beside it, hadn’t seen coming. Perhaps the skill came from its power to always know exactly what the worst thing to say was, that it could manage to reverse-engineer the words that Janus- pitifully- needed to hear. Regardless, it was… effective. 

“I- Well I was going to say-” their human skin flushed, they stammered; the embarrassment of needing assurance. But if they  _ had it _ , why waste it? If they could just- just say- “That I- I’d be  _ loath  _ to join you both, of course.”

Sure, that worked.

Remus grinned at them, so relieved. Logan offered a smaller, quieter kind of smile. 

Yes, that worked just fine. 

It was hours before Janus extricated themself from the living room, their face warmed, and their abdomen ached from laughing-cramps. Their face, too, was sore, but they couldn't seem to tamp their smile down long enough to give it any reprieve. A discomfort, but one they hardly minded, thanks to the way that dull throbbing just kept the afternoon’s memories alight in their head. 

Remus always had a special touch in getting their guard down, so that they barely had a reason to put one up around it. But Logan…

Ae was perceptive, but ae couldn’t help thinking in literals. Speaking in snarks, sarcasm, untruths to Logan and watching aer believe it, unquestioningly, it felt… Wrong. Not the fun, flirtatiously villainous kind of wrong, but plain shitty. At a certain point, it started seeming a lot like mockery, and that brought on a whole new idea: that Janus maybe just wanted to talk to their-  _ friends _ , like a normal person.

Which was new. New, and- they cautiously believed- good.

In the end, they went for it, throwing themself into the conversation with improvised words and enthusiasm. And that method- which really wasn't a method at all- had  _ worked _ . 

Janus had friends. Yes, plural!

As they came to the edge of the hallway, their smile finally began to abate. Janus reached their door, and found themself brought to a stop. Resting their hand on the handle, they pressed down just so, but didn’t let it click. 

For a moment, they mused on something. It was this:

Would it be  _ too  _ terribly dorky if, hypothetically, they dropped by to update Patton about what had happened? After all, he would have a vested interest in their progress, being the one to put them up to it in the first place. He was always so very proud and affectionate whenever anyone took him up on his ideas, which Janus  _ definitely wasn't  _ looking forward to. And, what better did either of them have planned, late afternoon on a Sunday?

They'd been out of their comfort zone far too much already that day anyhow, and Patton-  _ Patton's room _ , that is what they  _ meant  _ to say- was nothing if not comforting. Comforting, and warm, and loving, and… 

To be clear, they were still talking about the room. Obviously. 

Janus dropped their hand and walked back down the hall. It had been hours spent downstairs and they really had no clue if Roman or Virgil were still out and about, granting them a bit of briskness in the worry that they’d be interrupted. They gave Patton's door several short knocks, standing with their hands folded behind their back. 

The door flew open immediately, making it abundantly clear to Janus that he was having one of his good days right off the bat. They breathed a sigh of relief- one that they swore was only for their sake, and  _ not  _ any sort of care or concern. 

“Janus! What brings you around?”

They let their smile turn reserved, answering:

“Oh, I just had the  _ worst _ discussion downstairs with some of the others. I presumed you’d hate to hear about it?” 

Patton’s eyes sparkled with enough excitement to send a 90s anime character packing. 

“Yes-!” His exclaiming began, but he seemed to catch himself: “I mean-  _ Nooo,  _ I do  _ not, _ ” he leaned forward, smirking adorably at the poorly-feigned slyness like it was the cleverest thing in the world. It was  _ ridiculous. _

And Janus, who’s resolve had been considerably weakened by their eventful day, couldn’t help but cackle at the impression. They covered their mouth with the back of their hand, hunched over, and tried to ignore the absolutely beaming-with-pride expression Patton was wearing. 

“Please never do that again,” they breathed, a smile ghosting their lips.

“Is that double-speak?” Patton quirked his head.

Janus shrugged, mirroring his head tilt with a few stray laughs. “You know what? I’m not sure.” 

Patton rolled his eyes, but he was giggling nonetheless. 

In a beat after they’d calmed, Patton stood up straighter. He had, it looked, recalled why Janus was there in the first place. He’d also gone a little pink around the ears, but it wasn’t clear why. “Oh, right- Come in, Jan.”

The way he said it was in downy-soft sounds. Janus pushed away whatever they could’ve analyzed about that, because  _ no _ , there was no need to ruin a lovely day with too much speculation. They followed him inside, and shut the door behind. 

Janus breathed in the familiarness that always flowed in Patton’s room. It felt like home to anybody, in a way that was implacable and hazy. Janus could sink into it like slipping into fine silk, tilting their head back and letting the smell of sugar cookies and things long forgotten wash over them. It felt like being grounded but up in the clouds all at once.

They didn’t realize they’d closed their eyes until Patton was nudging their shoulder, smiling playfully. “I think you might need a nap before you can tell me what happened, Jay.”

They blinked back to awareness. A groggy exhaustion that they hadn’t noticed at all crept up on them, and only then did they realize they’d spent literal hours talking and cackling- an activity rare in their life- and they were quite spent. 

While they didn’t really  _ want _ to leave after they’d just gotten into Patton’s room, they could tell they weren’t going to be making much conversation in a state like that. 

“I suppose you may have a point,” Janus stared down at their hand, idly flexing their fingers. “Best if I tell you in the morning, if I’m not up in an hour, I suppose.”

A hand fell on their wrist before they could turn for the door. 

“You can stay and sleep here, if you want to. With me?” Patton didn’t meet their eyes, rambling on: “You seem to like it in here, is all, and if you really want you could borrow my bed on your own, but-”

“You want to sleep with me?”

Patton flushed bright, and Janus caught their words just a second too late.

“ _ Oh _ \- Janus, I- um, I didn’t mean to  _ proposition  _ you, or-”

“No- yes- er,” Janus’ human half was surely a matching red to Patton by that point, “I know what you meant, I just-”

“Misspoke?”

“Yes. That.”

“Ah, I gotcha.”

“Mhm!”

There was a very, very awkward silence. 

“So…?” Patton prompted. 

“Hm? Oh!” Janus cleared their throat, certainly louder than necessary. “I certainly wouldn’t want to nap in your room, Patton. And definitely not  _ with  _ you,” they lied.

Patton nodded, still not quite making eye-contact, and led Janus past the couch and to his oversized mattress. He landed easily on it, casting a smile at the stiffly-stood Janus as they hovered. 

A bit falteringly, they shrugged off their capelet, vanishing it back to their own room. They removed their hat, sending that away as well (they would have set it on the bedside table, but knowing the magickal clutter of Patton’s room they were sure it would be lost to his hoard by the time they awoke). They did the same with both of their gloves, and then kicked off their dress shoes. 

So, there they were, wearing their heavy overcoat and ankle-length skirt, feeling more exposed than they ever had before. Oh, this was a bad idea.

Patton had already made himself comfortable, and was looking up at them bemusedly. They shifted their weight under the scrutiny. 

“Do you have any sleep clothes?” He asked.

Janus bristled.

“Of course I  _ don’t _ ! I just- You know, I prefer to look a certain way in the presence of others.”

“Oh,” he said, drawing the syllable out. Janus glanced up, not at ease, but at least relieved from the lack of laughter. Patton simply smiled. “I could close my eyes, if you want?”

Janus snorted. “Very funny.”

“No, I mean it! If it’d make you more comfortable.”

“Urgh, no, it’s  _ fine _ , just-” they snapped their fingers, letting something baggy and soft and equally full-covering replace their usual garb. They didn’t let the transformation linger for longer than a second, slipping onto the bed and curling up at the very edge.  _ Finally _ , the ordeal was over, and they could settle in with the peace that the room brought them in the first place. 

“Uh-” or not, apparently, “Janus-”

“What? I can’t move any further, if you need more space,” Janus glanced sharply over their shoulder, feeling vaguely flighty. What a horrible idea all around- so much so that it, ironically, was beginning to nullify the calming effect of Patton’s room.

“Actually, it’s the opposite.”

Janus narrowed their eyes. 

“You need… less space?”

To their surprise, Patton chuckled. It was a fond, exasperated sound, one quite unlike any reaction they’d elicited in someone before.

“Oh, come here, dummy.”

And Patton wrapped his arms around their slim waist and pulled them against his chest. Janus went stiff, an overpowering sense of just- just-  _ feeling  _ thrumming under their skin that made breathing an unbearable task. But oh, was it ever so amazing anyways.

_ Of course,  _ Janus thought to themself,  _ there was absolutely  _ **_no_ ** _ way of telling that  _ **_he_ ** _ , the most touchy creature I think has ever existed, would be the cuddling type. _

Yet they couldn’t bring themself to reciprocate it, stuck shaking and struggling to breathe properly. Oh dear, it seemed that their superiority complex might have given them the impression that affection was something they were doing just fine without. How Patton loved to prove them wrong, as he did about so many things those days. 

Janus opened their mouth to speak, and their voice crumbled. They swallowed, trying again:

“Pat- Patton?”

“Is this alright?”

_ Alright  _ couldn’t even begin to cover how they were feeling.

“We don’t need to do this, if you don’t want to.”

“ _ No _ ,” Janus practically gasped, flushing in embarrassment immediately after. “No, I- I suppose I can tolerate it,” they scrambled to save face, hating how desperate it sounded, but loving how it only made Patton cuddle closer. He lifted a hand to the edge of their collarbone, smoothing down their longish hair. 

The daze finally broke then, and Janus forced themself to relax, to let it wash over them (a task that did not prove easy, mind you). Internally, they snarked about how _very_ _platonic_ the situation had become, but the thought was quickly shoved away. They had plenty enough to worry about as it was, and that little spark of an idea was one they would’ve rather put off to later. Besides, if they had the chance to indulge in something like this, then- in the true fashion of selfishness they held so dearly- they might as well.

“Sweet dreams, Jan.”

Sweet? Well yes, that was one way to put it. They could feel their teeth rotting away already, lost in a saccharine sensation that had never seemed to come so easily before.  _ Dream _ , they did, and  _ sweet _ , it all most certainly was.

_ “Educating the mind without educating the  _ **_heart_ ** _ is no education at all.” - Aristotle _

The door to the theater stood imposing and ornate, smashing any hope that the smaller doors in the hall would draw even an inch of attention. Which was no small number of doors, given the length of the corridor- a winding, twisting Mindpalace path that held more significance than many of its other constructions. 

A door made of galaxy, a passage with vines and flowers winding around its frame, one dark and cracked and made entirely of dark metal- each covering up a room specific to a particular interest. The bigger ones, interests that pertained directly to their human. The smaller, ones that the sides liked to indulge in, more subconscious intrigues. 

The  _ theater  _ door, of course, had reason to be so impressive. It’s frame was thick and golden, the bulk of it made from sturdy and carved oak. Its engraved details were mostly vague, swirling shapes that hinted at sea serpents on ancient maps, but if one tilted their head, could easily be dragons and nights. Fantastical either way. And to put the figurative cherry on top of this cake, it cast almost heavenly light in the darkened hallway, a glowing beacon of aspiration and dreams.

Janus shivered. 

The warmth it cast hit their scales unpleasantly, prickling like needles. Perhaps ‘heavenly’ only applied in the way it looked; it felt much crueler than heaven. Perhaps that wasn’t universal, though, and the door knew who they were. Or it knew how its owner felt about them, and so it sent fiberglass rays of light to dig between the slits in their scales, as a warning or a threat. For all the world it was likely that Janus was simply destined to feel uncomfortable in a place like that. 

They shook off the thought. It didn’t particularly matter what the theater ‘wanted’ them to feel, because a magic door couldn’t do much of anything to them, save for giving them gooseflesh. So, that’s Janus one, door zero. Ha.

They didn’t knock. They’d be begging for splinters if they did, probably. Janus reached straight for the golden handle and wrenched their arm back forcefully, anticipating its painful weight as they did. It was reluctant to open, but Janus was even more reluctant to give up, and with a harsh tug they finally got enough ground to wedge their foot inside. They hmphed in victory, slipped into the room, and sent the door a spiteful glare as it slammed shut right after them.

There. That was the easy part taken care of.

The room was shrouded in a velvety darkness, spanning from the bottom most row all the way up to the domed ceiling, distantly above head. Janus stood at the top rows, on the bottom tier, looking out across the expanse of seats with scarlet skins and descending staircases. Above them, in the balconies and the pews, they knew the sight would be the same for at least three levels upwards.

Janus laid their hand upon the guardrail, trailing upon it as they made their way down the gently sloped stairs. Their footsteps fell soundless on the carpet.

From the orchestral pit, a soft song was lilting. Atmospheric music, if perhaps not fitting the atmosphere Janus was about to create. The theater smelled of chocolate and rosin; sweet, a tinge musty, and old. Much, much older than the thirty-year-old man it was built inside of, and yet still well kept. It was a shock of Broadway with a speck of Boston Opera House thrown in, a dash of small-local-theater charm added for flavor.

Janus tilted their head back as they stepped out of the shade cast by the tier above them, reaching the last row. Their eyes went wide, their lips parted, as they finally took in the room’s focus, its center, its source of light and song.

Beaming spotlights, brilliant red curtains pulled back to reveal a sturdy, wooden curve of stage- an immense, encompassing stage. It shone and shimmered, demanding attention in a way that could only be called magickal (and it probably was, at least a little). But it wasn't only the stage that called the eye, for a stage is nothing without its subject, and this one could serve only as a background to the grinning, glittering Roman. 

Janus was at the edge of the stage before they knew it, their head craned back to watch the side flit to and fro across his dais. His hair was pinned back with little clips, he was sweating, and anyone could see that he was perfectly and utterly in his element.

Janus fell into a seat, and they waited. 

The performance wasn't especially long- they were apparently catching the tail-end of a new monologue Roman was trying, as far as they could gather- but it was  _ stunning _ . 

Janus wasn’t sure why the fact rattled them so; they’d always known he was a good actor, because he’d gotten Thomas a job from it. They were all adept at the craft. But, this… 

It was Roman’s design. His function. It was what he  _ was _ , what he was made from and what was made from him.

The soliloquy came to its close, and Janus felt a sickly puddle of guilt dripping into their stomach. They stood from their seat, upon shaking legs, and waited a breath. They began to applaud.

Roman’s eyes went wide, cut loose from the post-performance reverie. He looked confused, then delighted, his head swiveling around to find the source of the noise. Which, soon, they did, falling on Janus with all the weight of a house on a witch. 

The speed with which those jewels of eyes filled with hate might have been terrifying. Janus met them, dropping their hands to their sides. 

“I-”

“You need to leave.”

Everything about Roman spelled danger, and everything within Janus told them to flee. He was marching down the stage for them, his heels hitting the wood in resounding stomps, and his eyes looked like little fireballs. Roman didn’t miss a beat as he reached the edge, stairs materializing under him just in time with each step until he’d reached the bottom. “Well?” He came to Janus, hands notched on his hips. 

Janus was tense in every muscle. Janus cleared their throat. 

“I’d like to say, your act was absolutely incredible-”

Something flashed in Roman’s expression, and oh, it seemed that Janus had found precisely the worst thing to say. 

“Don’t you even  _ dare  _ to try that here,” Roman tossed his head, impatiently. “I won’t have you stand in  _ my  _ domain, mocking  _ my  _ craft. Why don’t you go back to your own sad little corner and do something productive for once, Deceit.”

It was hard not to wither under the glare set upon them, but Janus held as strong as they could. Only once they were quite sure that Roman didn’t have anything else to say, and was in fact just waiting for them to leave, did they try again:

“I know how little you’ll believe me, but that was a sincere compliment. Even I wouldn’t lie and tell you that you aren’t an impressive actor, Roman.”

There was a harsh, spitting laugh, one that spelled it clear how Janus was making the opposite of progress.

“Flattery? Really? We are miles past that by now. Oh, and I don’t recall giving you permission to use my proper name,  _ Snake _ .”

Janus opened their mouth, but it could only fall shut again. This was wrong, all of it, they were doing it  _ wrong _ . But what else, what else could they do, if not this?

They couldn’t look at him. Quietly, they let themself crumble, the cracks in their resolve spreading and branching. Janus let themself go, sighing in exhaustion, and realized, desolately, that that was the only way this could work. 

_ “Be yourself, okay?” _

_ They gave Patton an indulgent smile, rolling their eyes.  _

_ “Yes, yes; I’ll be myself, I’ll speak from the heart, follow the golden rule, et cetera et cetera.” _

_ He frowned at them, an expression just north of exasperated and closer to sympathy than it had any right being. Janus couldn’t face him head on, but they allowed Patton to take their hands in his own and hold them against his chest. Against his heart. _

_ “I mean it. I know it’s scary to let down your whole exterior, but you deserve to be the real you, too! If everybody saw you like that-”  _ The way I see you,  _ went unspoken, but Janus heard it loud and clear. “-Then even Roman couldn’t keep on not liking you.” _

_ They didn’t have anything to say to that. Well, nothing that wasn’t cynical, or that wouldn’t break Patton’s sweet little heart. _

_ They could’ve said that Patton probably knew more about their real self than they did. They might’ve confided that they didn’t know much about being real, or what would be left of them when they peeled away years-old layers of façade. Whatever they had become, it was so far from removed from authenticity, they weren’t sure they could change it.  _

_ Such thoughts must have shown in their face, though, or in the set of their shoulders, because Patton pulled them in close and ran a hand up and down their back.  _

_ And then, the hardest thing to stop from saying wasn’t anything sad or bitter at all; it was sweet, and soft, and they desperately didn’t want to say it and risk jinxing it all. _

_ It was this: To hell with what they were and weren’t sure they could do, or what they couldn’t do for the time being. It would be alright, because they were going to try anyway. Patton made them want- made them  _ willing  _ to work, to try, to risk a failure against all their instincts, for the first time in years. _

Janus met Roman’s eyes, finally, as their fall from grace began. Exhaustion, fear, frustration, it clouded their face so completely that they could feel the scowl of their lips and the dullness of their eyes. They showed it plainly. They lost composure- or, more accurately, they simply set it free. 

And when they saw the surprise flashing across Roman’s face, it was the last little push they needed. 

“Look, neither of us want me to stand here and grovel, detailing each and every thing I’ve done to wrong you. You won’t believe a word I say, and I’m certainly not going to enjoy recounting my deplorable actions. So if it’s all the same to you, I think I’m going to skip that part.”

Roman’s expression hardened, but it was latent with curiosity, and he did not interrupt Janus again.

“Good. I’m going to level with you here,” they took a step forward, decisively ignoring the way Roman tensed. “There isn’t a thing I could say to win you over, but that’s just as well, because that isn’t what I’m here to do. I need you to  _ know _ that’s not what I’m here to do.

“I’m here to be blunt, and make it very clear: I’m sorry. Or, I’m  _ not  _ sorry- whichever way you need to hear it to know it’s the truth. For what I’ve done, how I’ve treated you, how I’ve…” they bit down on the inside of their cheek, breathing. “How I’ve led you on,” they whispered. “So I’m not going to rise to your bait another time, nor am I going to fight with you, or argue, or undermine you at all. And if you think for a moment from here on out that I’m trying to goad you on purpose, and that gives you cause to lash out, just know that I’m  _ trying _ to stay out of your way, understood?”

Roman’s mouth was a thin white line- a hurt and confused little line. He exhaled harshly, and said:

“Oh, you’re trying? You’re doing a sucky job of it anyway, considering you are  _ refusing  _ to leave me alone  _ right now. _ ”

Janus drew themself up angrily, all poised and ready to spring on him, only to chomp down on their bottom lip before they could make the attack. Their teeth broke the skin, a metallic taste coating their tongue, and tears sprung to the corners of their eyes. But still, they breathed, and trampled the fight inside of them until it was nothing but a dull, pounding frustration.

“I needed you to  _ know _ ,” it was a plea, a wish, “That I’m  _ sorry. _ That I know where my methods were wrong and that I intend to be better for it. Better to you, because I’m  _ trying _ ,” and, added under their breath: “And you make it  **_so easy_ ** for me.”

They knew better than to wait around for The Great and Volatile Roman’s next emotional explosion, spinning on their heel with their back defiantly straight. Step after shaking step they tracked back through the rows of seats, but it was nary more than five seconds before the house lights went up all at once, casting darkness off from the room like it was nothing but a thin sheet.

Janus stopped, and it all felt very dramatic. There were swift footsteps behind them- they didn’t dare turn around- and a hand grasped tightly around their wrist. It was not a soft or careful grip. It was not a painful one, either.

“You- what?” Roman’s voice was quite innocently confused, lacking the vitriol Janus was used to. It was uncanny, like it had been brought to them from a time before the wedding, when he’d been simply enchanted by them. “You- you’re being serious. That you’re trying. For- me?”

Janus balled their hand to a fist. What trick was this? Was now the time to return to lying? Would he believe them if they didn’t?

In the end, they couldn’t do more than try to breathe, their back turned. When had they started to  _ care _ , to feel aches of remorse thinking about the games they’d stuck him in? Was it new? Was it part of being accepted, to care  _ so much _ , so wholly, to want to take care of a family they were barely a part of? They had questions, endless questions, and for once none of the answers seemed easy to get.

Roman dropped their wrist.

“You  _ are _ telling the truth, aren’t you?”

Janus’ breath caught. Surely not…

“You weren’t trying to- oh- you were really-” there was a sound, almost a groan, not quite a whimper. But Roman, impassioned though he seemed, was no longer  _ angry. _

Janus, tense beyond belief, could finally turn their head. Just over the shoulder, just enough to feel recognition flash in their eyes as they looked at him. Roman seemed unsure of himself for the first time that conversation, his hands knotted together at his waist, his jaw grinding and straining.

And, reaching for some strength that couldn’t have been their own, Janus spoke from the heart twice in one day: 

“You can relate. You know what I mean, don’t you, Roman?” They said it without malice, used his name falteringly, “You try to be helpful. You want to do what you think is right, but you’re- you’re always doing it wrong. No matter what you seem to try, it’s wrong, and when everyone gets so angry it’s hard to think, no one bothers to tell you  _ how  _ you did it wrong. Rinse and repeat, until there comes to be a breaking point.”

Roman was obviously shocked. Janus glanced away.

“ _ Yes _ ,” he whispered, “Oh, I can’t believe that you know. They never- no one ever- they can’t just  _ explain _ , and I don’t-” he shuddered, emerald-green eyes shining wetly, “You  _ know _ .”

Ah. Understanding. That was a little harder to deal with than shock. Janus shifted uncomfortably.

“Yes, well, I’ve obviously had a different response to these… issues, than you have. I’m  _ very fond  _ of asking for help, as you know.”

They caught the tiny lie too late- but to their surprise, Roman hardly blinked. He just laughed, subdued and easy. 

“I think- well, I- I still don’t like you,” he admitted, “But I. I can at the very least accept your apology, and… we’ll just have to see from there, I guess.”

They  _ jolted _ . Physically jumped, barely avoiding the theatrics of a gasp. Before Roman could comment- and his bemused eyes were doing enough of that already- Janus cleared their throat.

“Yes, of course.”

Roman ran his hand through his hair, pushing it back from his face only for it to fall again in just the same way. He was guarded, but it was only caution- the hatred had vanished most completely- and they couldn’t fault him for that. 

“If you come to visit me again,” he said, and there he was, laughing again, “Give me a head’s up, alright? I’d prefer to put together a real show, if I’m going to have an audience!”

Janus gawked at him, finding that they couldn’t help but grin. They had complimented him so thoroughly, and how had they only now realized it- that it was  _ true _ . This man was magnificent.

“If you would have me again,” they tried not to let it mean more than just visiting, but oh, was it a task to keep the awe from their voice, “I would be happy to.”

“You haven’t seen a thing yet, not from what  _ I  _ can do,” the confidence, for once, didn’t seem forced. “You let me know, and I’ll show you  _ acting _ .”

Janus could hardly wait.

(When they told Patton about that one, they could hear for themself the way their voice shook. They tried to control it, thinking to themself that they should’ve waited to cool down before telling him, but each time their voice slipped he only looked more proud. He grabbed their hands and smoothed his thumb across their knuckles, laughing at their prose and teasing them when they tried to balance it out with sarcasm and lies.

(They laughed with him, much quieter, and much more reserved, when it was all done. He asked, half-jokingly, what Janus thought of Roman.

(They told him that yes, you smug little thing, they hoped to be friends with him, Patton had been right.

(And he looked oddly relieved by that statement, though Janus could only wonder why. 

(And it was only a week later that Janus visited the theater again. The door came unstuck with a little less trouble, and Roman really  _ had  _ planned something. It was funny, and powerful, and amazing. They’d brought him a flower- for a bouquet seemed too pandering, and nothing at all seemed impolite. 

(It wasn’t a rose; it was a sunflower. Roman took one look at it and it seemed as though he knew perfectly what all Janus meant by it, which he likely did- symbolism wasn’t lost on him, contrary to popular belief, not when it came to pretty things like flowers and poetry and affection. 

(He grinned, and Janus saw a bit more of his guard come down.

(They visited again. And again. And again. They saw so many plays they were beginning to get sick of it, but each time it seemed to build Roman up a bit more, to bring the pair onto some stabler ground. They never once entertained the idea of stopping. 

(Janus did  _ not  _ squeak like a dying dog toy the first time Roman said they were friends, and if he tells you otherwise, then he’s absolutely full of it.)

Janus had become disturbingly familiar with the common spaces these days. 

Their room, which had once been a sanctuary, grew freshly lonesome. On more than one occasion, the quiet that used to bring them such peace turned sour and dreary, like it had taken to rot. 

Of course it was just as likely that it had been rotten to begin with, for that matter, because obviously Janus still loved the quiet. It was only that such silence always tasted better when they were spending it somewhere lively, and not in that dark, listless room of theirs. 

It had started simply with the living room, a place they were truly comfortable with now, but then their fascination spread. Beyond the house, and into the infinite twists and turns and valleys that could be created in the human mind, Janus found their home. They frequented areas where they knew other sides visited, whether it be specific traits, or pairs, and learned to find the brain they’d lived in forever as less and less of a minefield each day.

It was all knowable: the lush gardens, the ‘outdoor’ trails, the strange buildings full of all sorts of amenities and staffed by exactly no one, more and more from there. The darling part was, any of it could be changed at any time- and yet some places were always sacred. 

Janus had chosen an indoor setting for this occasion. They sat beneath a bay window, looking out on a gray sky and blue sea. They were coiled in impressively soft blankets, resting on crochet-pillows, all in shades of maroon and slate. The window was cool to the touch, but they were warm as could be.

Clouds were gathering in the sky, coloring the beach’s sand ashen, but the threat of rain was unlikely. Faint and bluish light filtered in, hitting upon the bookshelf opposite them, and the bar beside that, and caught on the rest of the living room’s amenities. These were: a chandelier, something vaguely boat-themed and made from old, old-looking iron; a sleek couch, paired with an armchair and ottoman; a coffee table atop a weathered rug, coasters stacked neatly on its glass surface; a few spare shelves and end tables.

A nice and big house by the sea. A delightful and modern thing. A historical and ethereal thing. Inside, outside, cozied on the furniture or losing oneself to the artificial ocean, it was all just as well. Who didn’t love a house by the sea?

(Well, Virgil, for starters. He quite hated the smell of salt-water, and he didn’t like big houses  _ or  _ big bodies of water. But that was just another positive to the place, as far as Janus was concerned.)

Janus shook their head, turning their attention away from the room. They heard distant footsteps on the porch, and straightened themself up; ought to be presentable for company, after all.

In just a moment a door opened down the hall. Janus dropped one leg down from the windowsill, leaning their back against it but otherwise not moving. They couldn’t be  _ too  _ bothered about preparation, knowing who it was- being excited for who it was- and all that.

It was Logan to round the corner first, smiling pleasantly. And then Roman, following right behind, exclaiming his presence in overloud sing-song.

Logan opted for a simple: “Greetings.”

“Hello,” Janus returned, making to smile and realizing that they already were. 

Roman cast them a brilliant grin, waving unnecessarily, and wasted no time in lifting himself to sit on top of the bar. His presence dispelled any peace the room had, as it so often did, but replaced it in kind with a bright sort of energy that it was hard not to get caught up in.

Logan took aer seat at the cloudy-blue couch, crossing one leg over the other. Aer eyes glided around the room watchfully, and that approving look of aer’s made the whole scenario seem much more official. 

“Welcome, both of you,” Janus greeted warmly, “I suppose we should jump right in, then? First orders of business?”

Roman grinned at them, waving to conjure a thick, ornate book before they’d even finished talking. Logan glanced at him, rolled aer eyes, and summoned a much smaller, sleek paperback into aer hands. 

Janus slipped a hand beneath their blankets, drawing out a title of their own. The novel Logan had lent them months ago;  _ Natural Law and Natural Rights,  _ John Finnis. Not too long a work (by philosophy’s standards), but hey, a book was meant to be  _ digested _ , not inhaled over a weekend. As far as Janus was concerned, anyway. 

“Right,” Logan started, “I’d assume Roman wants to go first, because-”

“-my choice is obviously the most interesting!”

“He’s very impatient,” ae was unfazed, “And Janus will go last, because-”

“-best for last, as they say.”

“While I’m very glad you liked my book recommendation,” Logan smirked, “I was going to say it’s because you dislike taking charge of situations.”

Janus placed a hand over their heart in mock-offense, privately amused to know that ae’d hit them so right on the money without even knowing it. 

Their theatrics earned a laugh from Roman, at least, and that gave them a prideful little thrill. Logan sent glances at them both, exasperated already, which set a very familiar tone for the meeting.

Nevermind that it was only the first meeting of their three-side book club. 

It wasn’t a traditional sort of book club, because while each pair among them could agree on a genre (Logan and Janus shared an appreciation for the intellectual things, Logan and Roman were very fond of poetry, and Roman and Janus could bond over some of the darker fairytales and classic fantasies), it’d be a nightmare to find something they’d all three like. So, more accurately, it was less of a book club and more of a group info-dumping session about whichever books each had been enjoying. A wonderful idea, so naturally it had been Logan’s.

Roman was happy to get started, hopped off the bar and hefted his novel up with him, displaying a cover that was unapologetically queer as he dove into the explanations. He didn’t stand still for longer than a minute or two, automatically falling into a pace groove. If it made his diatribe harder to follow, no one commented about that. Nor did they interrupt, even when he seemed to deliver each subplot with detail befitting an actual poem. 

Logan was certainly too entranced by him to interrupt. Janus was too busy thinking of all the ways they’d tease aer about it later, and how they’d retort when ae fired back, all of it in good fun.

The speech concluded with Roman practically wheezing for breath (Janus wondered if he’d let out a single exhale the entire time), and bowing as he would with any other performance. His audience of two laughed, with him. 

He stood, grinning. “Thank you, thank you. Now-!” Roman swept around the back of the couch, draping his arms upon the top and resting his head beside Logan’s. “What  _ type _ of college textbook are you gonna tell us about, Specs?”

Logan rolled aer eyes, insisted that it was  _ not  _ a textbook, and revealed the rather unassuming historical fiction ae’d brought for the day. Roman said it might as well have been a textbook, so naturally Janus took a crack at his reading level. He mocked offense, again, but quieted down his affronted ramble when Logan actually started speaking. 

And silently, Janus was pin-pricked with relief. Light-hearted ribbing was still- ah- a learning process, needless to say-  _ especially _ with Roman. 

They glanced out the window, letting Logan’s words wash over them as they watched the water wash over the shore. The soft wind stirring up the sand, white-foam waves crashing in a way they only could somewhere like New England, certifiably not  _ Florida _ .

Sometimes, it almost felt real. Like Janus was an honest-to-God human, with pink skin and blunt nails and flat teeth, with a house up North, a life, a job. Maybe a husband. Maybe that husband would want kids, and a dog, and maybe they wouldn’t mind that idea as much as they always thought they would. Maybe he would have a way of making domesticism seem downright exciting. 

Roman sat down across from them in the window. Janus blinked, tearing their eyes away from it all- when had he even walked over?- and folded their legs up to make room. Roman smiled, bumping their knees and not seeming to mind.

Logan had come to the end of aer book, and was staring expectantly at them. Janus held their novel in their lap and bent the spine of it, flicking at the pages incessantly (even if it wasn’t actually  _ theirs _ , they’d seen the way Logan battered and ripped aer collection of books enough times to know ae wouldn’t notice). 

“Janus?”

They glanced up. “Yes?”

“Are you ready to close us out for this week?”

Ae was smiling, a little flushed from being able to talk as much as they really wanted. It was an unabashedly open expression, one that anyone would feel privileged to see, one that told Janus today had gone as perfectly as anything.

“Yes,” they cleared their throat, tapping their fingertips against their book. “Yes, I think I am.”

Janus dared to let themself relax, leaning against the sofa. They’d even be seen out of their usual outfit, traded out for pajamas! Not a onesie, certainly- they weren’t yet ready for something  _ that  _ ridiculous- but, well. Even they could admit, oversized sweatpants and a thick, cashmere sweater were much nicer to wear for a movie night. Hell, they didn’t even have their gloves, but rather kept their sleeves pulled down past their hands; their hat, too, was absent. 

It had been the twins (with Patton’s help) that finally convinced them to join the weekly marathon, for once. No, literally,  _ for once  _ because they’d never really joined before.

They were surprised at just how comfortable they felt.

Janus had a spot in the middle of the sectional, with Patton sitting on the floor in front of them, his head leaning against Janus’ legs. Janus was almost tempted to run their fingers through his hair; knowing him, knowing that he wouldn’t mind it at all, hardly helped make the idea less enticing. Yet their hands rested on their knees for the time being, balled up, close but never touching. Not until they could come up with a plausible excuse to do something so…  _ affectionate _ .

Logan and Remus were at the opposite side of the couch, the former sitting beside the arm, the latter sprawled across two unoccupied cushions (and it was, blessedly, wearing boxers at the very least). The pair of them had bristled with unrelenting chatter since the moment they’d sat down. Janus hadn’t the slightest what they were talking about, and it was unrelated to whatever they were watching, but nevertheless they didn’t have the heart to be annoyed with either of them. 

Roman of course was reclined in his throne of blankets and pillows on the other end of the couch, shouting with commentary every few minutes and laughing uproariously at his own jokes. Like many things he did, it was just as endearing as it was annoying. 

The whole evening was lovely, really. Janus was sweetly surprised.

And it didn’t even matter that Virgil was with them too, balled up on top of the couch with malice shooting across his expression every time that Janus so much as breathed too loudly. It didn’t matter that he glanced at them, eyes darkened, every five seconds, as though he expected them to _ hurt  _ someone.

Janus swallowed the sting like so many small needles, reminding themself that Virgil was the only one who really thought that, these days. 

Which was still such a dizzying thought that it dulled the pain entirely. Janus, surrounded by people that liked them. Janus, as close to relaxed as they probably could get. Janus, definitively not the black sheep of the family. 

The second movie of the night was beginning: Roman returned from the kitchen with snack-laden arms, rushing in just before the opening. He clumsily maneuvered a bag off the top of his hoard- assorted licorice, the  _ nice _ kind- and tossed it ungracefully at Janus. They hardly managed to catch it in time to hear Roman’s snide remark about their strange taste in candy. They shot back with a dig about the Creative Side’s affliction for over-expensive chocolate, and which he scoffed, and they both settled down again, now with matching little smiles. 

Remus yammered over the credits, and Virgil- for however much he hated Janus- had no trouble talking to it. He even, on occasion, leaned down from his perch on the cushions to playfully shove it, ruffle its hair, any number of endearing little gestures. Every time, it was completely preening under the attention. 

Janus resolutely ignored who Virgil was for long enough to be happy for their friend; Remus deserved that. 

The conversation didn’t waver, to the point that the movie was mostly background noise. After a few minutes, even Janus found the nerve to contribute!

And meanwhile, Patton was quiet. He looked content. The chatter seemed to wash over him, and he cozied up a little closer to the couch with an easy sigh. Janus tried again not to fawn over him, but in the end that would prove to be useless, because-

Patton leaned his head, just a little, and rested it half in Janus’ lap. Thank God they hadn’t been talking, or there wasn’t a chance they wouldn’t have squawked mid-sentence. At least the profoundly embarrassing noise they actually made was quiet, and Patton- a merciful man- did not mention it. 

So. The whole Touching Thing. With Patton. It wasn’t  _ not  _ common, and Janus… Didn’t  _ not  _ like it. It was only that, every time it happened- and Patton was usually the one starting it- something dangerous and excited and altogether painfully sincere lit up their skin with warmth and their chest with want. 

And so it was with a sharp edge of nervousness that Janus placed their hand in Patton’s hair, carding through his curls. Patton tilted his head back to look at them, eyes half-lidded and sleepy.

He smiled. Janus’ heart stuttered horribly. 

Patton’s smile only widened as he reached a hand up to take Janus’ own. He pulled Janus’ hand down, leaving them embarrassed for a split second before pressing a kiss to their ungloved knuckles, and letting go again. 

Janus knew how stupidly red their human-half must have been, and their skin prickled. They ruffled up Patton’s hair in retaliation, but all he did was laugh, looking obnoxiously proud of himself. 

And Janus…  _ really  _ didn’t mind  _ that _ .

The lights were all out, leaving only the glow of the television to keep the room from being pitch dark. It was just the idle screen, a blurry background of blues and purples with a bouncing logo. It was buzzing in that special way of electricity, but otherwise, everything was silent.

Janus lounged on the couch, somewhere between unnerved and calm, and utterly refusing to get up. ‘Overwhelmed’ would be a way of putting it, but the word they really identified with was  _ Urrghghhhahgghg _ . 

They knew that they should be getting up, dragging themself up the stairs, and going to bed in their big, empty room. But they were not. They knew also that they were alone in the living room after a wonderfully amazingly draining evening, and they were comfortable enough to not care about how eerie everything felt, and perhaps if they just fell asleep like this they could just wake up a little earlier, and sneak up to their room then. Nobody would be the wiser. 

The television finally went dark. Janus blinked open heavy eyelids, leaning forwards in their seat and scrubbing a hand down their face. No, no, this wouldn’t do, their back would be an aching nightmare in the morning.

Janus made to stand, but quite before they could, something shifted. There was a rustle of fabric against the couch, and then the telltale sound of someone dropping down onto the cushions. 

Janus shot a look sideways, and confirmed that, as it happened, they very much were not alone. And even in the dark-  _ especially  _ in the dark- they could recognize that stretched-out silhouette anywhere. 

Janus didn’t speak. They lifted their chin, wishing in the back of their mind that they weren’t wearing such casual clothes, and waited.

“I need to talk to you,” Virgil growled out. 

“Then talk,” Janus said, easily- no bite, no snark, because need they say again that they  _ didn’t want to fight _ ? Still, the statement left no doubt that they didn’t care at all for what Virgil had to say. A decent middle ground between indifference and dislike. 

“Okay,” Virgil’s voice rumbled in the bottom of his throat, strained, “I will.”

The silhouette of him jolted to its feet, pacing around a bit before settling in front of Janus. 

Janus got the sense they were expected to stand. They didn’t. 

“Could you get on with it, then? I’m not at  _ all  _ tired.”

Virgil shifted his weight, and Janus entertained the idea that he wasn’t angry. Or, if he truly was, it was deeper than his usual Janus-induced blind rage. He cleared his throat. 

“So. Everybody is all about you now, I guess.” 

“I suppose so,” Janus yawned, crossing one leg over the other performatively. “With the exception of you, that is.”

Virgil’s body seemed to ripple, something between a shrug and a shiver.

“Look,” he hissed, “I know Roman’s already got the threatening you thing covered, so I guess I don’t need to- or maybe I do, because even  _ he’s  _ completely changed his mind about you. Which, first of all, don’t expect me to not be suspicious of  _ that _ -”

_ Of what?  _ Janus meant to ask, but they couldn’t get a word in.

“But, uh, second of all, I don’t…” he muttered something under his breath, unintelligible, before blurting: “It’s been so peaceful around here.  _ Too  _ peaceful- God that sounds so fucking cliché, but it’s true, okay? So- just- can we skip all the big suspense, and you just tell me what your endgame here is? You convince everyone to trust you, and now what? And what the actual hell do you want with  _ Patton? _ ”

There  _ was _ anger in his voice now, but it was strained, held back. He was actually trying not to be as harsh as he wished to be, for once, but Janus knew precisely what he was getting at anyway and they didn’t care for it. There was the sickening weight of indignation in Janus’ stomach, and they stood up, crossing their arms. 

“What  _ exactly _ are you accusing me of, Virgil?”

They were only asking for courtesy, of course. 

Virgil took a step back from them, shining eyes narrowed to slits. “That’s the problem, though, isn’t it? I don’t _know_ what you’re planning to do with my friends, and don’t even get me started on why you’re doing it-”

“-Our friends.”

Virgil rattled to a stop instantly. Janus had surprised themself, too, blurting out in a fit of emotion like they were- they were- someone who  _ blurted  _ things! 

Which wasn’t to say they didn’t stand by it. They absolutely did. 

“... _ What _ ?”

Janus’ eyes had adjusted to the dark just in time to see the way Virgil’s face twisted up, his lips curling down and his eyebrows pinching together. They met the look with a scowl. 

“Roman, Logan,  _ Patton _ ? Remus, too, and it always has been, no matter how much it just adores you now-” Janus counted off on their fingers, advancing on him, “Zoom out for a minute, could you, Virgil? Things have changed around here. So  _ sorry _ that you have to share your playmates with me now.”

And that certainly did nothing to mollify Virgil. It was safe to say he looked more than a little murderous, actually, baring his teeth and balling his fists at his sides. That was a little better, actually- that was how Virgil always looked at Janus, a glare couldn’t do anything to hurt them.

But words could.

“God, you’re so- okay, I promised Remus I’d give you another chance, and even though I knew it was a bad idea I still tried, instead of having this conversation with you in the first place like I should have!” Virgil’s eyes flashed darkly, “I have  _ no idea  _ what it still sees in you now that it has us. You may  _ think _ that you know everything, and maybe you know how to manipulate them, but you can’t manipulate  _ me  _ anymore and we both know it!” He jabbed a finger into Janus’ chest, making them flinch. “I know you better than anybody. I am  _ not _ going to let you hurt them, so whatever you’re planning, you aren’t getting away with it, even if I have to figure out what it is for myself. We’re a- we’re a  _ family _ .”

This was the part of their conversation where Janus would give up, spit out a last biting remark, and slink away to the corners of the mindpalace to wallow with their tail between their legs, consoled that at least they got the last word in. 

Imagine their surprise when, instead of resigned exhaustion, a surge of anger flared up in their chest and reinvigorated them. When they rose up like a tidal wave, poised to crash down upon Virgil just how they’d always wanted to. 

“What’s so different about me, then? Why am _ I _ not family material?” Janus pushed up into his space, reveling in the way he slunk back, hissing and spitting. “I’m a side, I’ve got a job to do around here and I’m damn good at it, and- to be absolutely petty- people  _ like me!  _ Face it, I’m just. Like. You.” 

If it weren’t for the darkness, Janus could’ve sworn they saw Virgil pale. 

“No!”

“Why not? Give me  _ one  _ reason that I-”

“ **Why can’t you just stay away from me!?** ” Virgil’s voice crackled with distortion; he tightened his hands in his own hair, pulled _hard_. “ **All my life, it’s been** ** _you_** **. You were the one that kept me in the dark all those years, me and Remus. You taught me- whatever it was** ** _you_** **thought was right, and I- I fucking believed you!** ” he visibly swallowed, and that made a crinkling sound, too. “ **You taught me to act the way I did, and when I finally,** ** _finally_** **get away, you just keep following me! Showing up just to screw with me, and insult me, and acting like you’re better than me just because I got out of a bad situation and you couldn’t. And that’s not even enough for you, you have to show up in the middle of me trying to do my job and harass the people I care about, too.** ” he whirled on Janus, looking them dead in the eyes with his own hateful pools of green and violet. “ **But you’re still not satisfied, are you? No, you’ve got everybody to trust you now, even after everything you’ve done to them- my own** ** _partner_** **still follows you around like when we were all kids. So where does it end, Deceit? When have you hurt me enough?** ”

There was a beat. Janus blinked up at him, and their chest was so tight- too tight, like a snake coiling around itself and squeezing, squeezing,  _ squeezing _ -

“That’s not my name,” they rasped.

As Virgil scoffed, his voice broke again, the static slipping away and the blackness under his eyes fading to gray. 

“Oh,  _ fuck you _ . If you think I’m going to trust you just because I know your name now, then-!”

“No,” Janus snapped, “I don’t give a shit if you _ trust _ me or not. I don’t give a shit if you never believe a single word I say, from now until Thomas dies. I don’t  _ care  _ if you hate me so that it makes you sick, as long as you understand one thing about me,” they clenched their fists at their sides, holding Virgil’s gaze, and tried to breathe enough that they weren’t having a panic attack while trying to construct a decent argument. By some mercy, he didn’t interrupt them. 

“You knew me as Deceit because that’s what I wanted to be called, because it felt  _ safe  _ to hold on to a pseudonym. It was  _ my  _ name to share, you understand? Whatever you think about me, I have a right to be called what I want to be called, and it may have been Deceit when I was a flighty little teenager, but you  _ know _ it’s Janus now and I expect you to say it,” their hands were shaking; they tensed them more, till their tendons were straining under the skin. “Jesus, Virgil, did you ever stop to think that none of this was about you at all? That maybe  _ I  _ was struggling, too?”

Virgil opened his mouth to speak, but they didn’t give him the satisfaction.

“I didn’t make you stay! I never  _ forced  _ you to do anything, not even when we lived together, and I- I can’t excuse everything I’ve done, of course. The things I said, and how they affected you- how  _ I  _ affected you, and…” they swallowed. “Hurt you. But those were mistakes, Virgil. It was cruel of me, unfair of me, yes, but it wasn’t manipulation. I never did it on  _ purpose _ , I-” their voice cracked, humiliatingly, “I never  _ had _ a ‘master plan’ with you. I just- I was frightened out of my mind  _ constantly _ , couldn’t you tell?”

Virgil didn’t even try to answer. 

“No, of course you couldn’t, you were too focused on your own terror to hear anybody else’s, back then. Can I really fault you, when what choice did any of us have but to look out for ourselves and screw over everybody else?” That hit the nail on the head, and they knew it; them and Virgil, forever the same. (But then again, Virgil had grown, and what had they done? Stagnated until someone bigger and kinder and with infinite patience managed to cajole them into being a better person… (On second thought, that might’ve also been quite similar to him.))

“That place,” Janus continued, “The subconscious- I know just as well as you how horrid it was. I never  _ wanted  _ to be there, but it was so much easier to pretend I did when I never had any hope of getting out. It’s not  _ my _ fault that my delusions convinced you for so long, too. I was never your keeper! For God’s sake, Virgil, you’re nearly three years older than me!

“It was never about you. I didn’t ‘follow’ you anywhere. I was- I was  _ jealous _ , those months I taunted you, and for that… I’m sorry. I actually am, for once- sorry that I lashed out when you did what I thought I couldn’t,” Janus bit down on their lip, hard, glaring at the carpet with blurry eyes. “I just wanted to get  _ out _ .”

Two sets of lungs working overtime, breathing ragged and exhausted, their sounds echoing throughout the room accompanied only by the buzzing of the TV. Virgil was still as a stone. Janus was trembling.

“You’re out now,” Virgil muttered.

“Yes,” Janus let out a shuddering breath. “I am.”

There was a staggering, encompassing silence. Janus looked up at Virgil.

“You want to know what I want now? What my honest-to-God plan is?” 

Virgil waited, like he wasn’t sure if the question was rhetorical. When the silence just went on and on, he cleared his throat, and the embodiment of anxiety had never sounded quite so uncertain. 

“...What do you want?” 

Janus felt the tears burning from their human eye down one side of their face, collecting at their chin and dripping down their neck, sticky and cold. 

“I just want to  _ be _ .”

Virgil, to his credit, didn’t even look surprised. The fury had left his stance quite a while ago, and he simply looked… resigned, almost. His shoulders sagged, his arms hung limp at his sides, and he seemed to slump down into himself. 

“So I… I’m the thing stopping you.”

It didn’t  _ sound  _ like a realization. It sounded tired and weak, but there was just something about the way his eyes couldn’t focus on anything that made it seem epiphanic. 

Janus blinked.

“You- believe me?’

Virgil stared at them with cold eyes, but in the end he couldn’t keep it up, and dropped his gaze back down to the floor.

“I’ve never seen you cry before.”

So that was what it took, was it?

Well. Janus could bear the humiliation. That was part of growth, wasn’t it? 

But that left them and Virgil at an impasse. It was the only moment not filled with vitriol between the two of them in years, and it was obvious that neither knew what to do with it. 

Janus pressed the back of their hand to their face, dragging their knuckles beneath their eye. They nodded silently, trying to look put-together about the ordeal, and let the sleeve of their sweater soak up the remains of their sadness.

They sunk out without another word. 

They came back to their room, dropped immediately to the bed, and tugged the comforter tight around their shoulders. It was childish, the way they hauled the blanket up to their cheek and pulled the edges in around them, but it was all they could do to shove what had happened out of their mind. 

That, and they couldn’t deny the way it felt like someone holding them. The heaviness of the fabric, its warmth, it felt like  _ Patton  _ holding them.

Janus pressed their face against the pillow. That reminder was sorely needed. They almost wanted him there and then, his care, the way he knew just how to help with every emotional problem Janus brought to him. Happening more and more often as of late- and maybe that was Morality’s fault, too, that he had opened them up to feeling all these things.

But Patton resolutely believed that it was all progress, that it was helping. And even when it hurt, Janus trusted him. 

Janus laid there, crying like they hadn’t in years, and they wanted so badly for it to be progress.

_ “If you would be a real seeker after truth, it is necessary that at least once in your life you doubt, as far as possible, all things.” - Rene Descartes _

Janus wasn’t sure what they expected when they answered the door that morning. To be perfectly frank, they were hardly aware of existence in general, trudging out of bed with a blanket half-wrapped around their shoulders and their human eye still rimmed with red. All they knew was that the knocking was loud, and their head was pounding, and it had been a rough enough goddamn night already without all the racket and-

There they stood, hatless, bed-headed, in loose fitting pajamas and a blanket cape, with two guests at the door. 

Wonderful. Janus was very awake  _ now _ , at any rate. 

“Hi,” Remus greeted.

“Hey,” Virgil muttered.

“Oh,” Janus said. 

The pair looked strangely complimentary in Janus’ doorway: Remus wore a glittering smile, its hands propped on his hips. It had always been fond of early mornings (and late nights, and not sleeping much in general), but in its eyes, something hesitant was swirling around. Virgil towered beside it, even though he was hunching his shoulders and ducking his head to let the bangs fall over his face. For such a large creature, he pulled off the insolent teenager aesthetic surprisingly well, down to the grimace on his face that bared his teeth so clearly. But even that was subdued by contrition, and his strained fists were visible in his pockets. 

Janus opened their mouth, looking between the two sides, and ultimately found they hadn’t the slightest what to say. 

“You know why we’re here, yeah?” Remus asked them.

“I presume it’s not to fetch me for breakfast at half past six in the morning?” Their voice was rougher than they would have liked, and they frowned as Virgil caught their eye.

_ He knows, of course he knows,  _ Janus’ mind hissed,  _ he knows you crawled away to your room and cried over him, and with your luck he might have even  _ heard  _ your pathetic whimpering.  _

But he didn’t mention it, just pushed his hair back from his eyes, and grumbled:

“We have to, uh. Talk. You and me. And Remus, I guess.”

Janus raised an eyebrow, hoping Virgil wouldn’t pick up on the jolt of fear that passed through them. 

“Because we didn’t do enough of that last night?” 

Virgil, to their surprise, smirked, pointing to Remus with his thumb. 

“Yeah, well, we need to talk  _ properly  _ now.”

“Properly?” Janus almost laughed, “What is this supposed to be, mediated couple’s therapy?”

There was a gravelly chuckle from Virgil that had them feeling quite proud of themself, but Remus didn’t look entertained in the least. That was odd enough to spike their nerves up again, the fact that out of the three of them it was looking the most grave. 

“You two are the literal  _ worst  _ at talking about your feelings, so basically? Yeah. Therapy,” Remus shoved past the doorway, shouldering Janus unceremoniously out of the way and dragging Virgil along with it.

Janus stumbled, huffing, and watched it slam the door and make itself right at home on their couch. 

Well. Fine. It was never much good arguing with Remus, anyway. 

Janus turned their back to the guests, snapped their fingers, and felt a more fitting outfit fall into place over them. With a roll of their wrist, they summoned their hat, placing it on their head only after straightening out their hair at least a bit. They took their time with the ordeal, too, always one to put on a show (to avoid responsibility). 

But this was inevitable. It was a long time coming, even.

“Remus,” Janus stepped back across the room, taking a spot on the couch that left the Duke between themself and Virgil. “I take it you heard about our- to put it delicately- argument?”

It snorted, rolling its eyes. 

“I don’t think that anybody  _ didn’t  _ hear that screaming match, but yeah, Scarecrow here gave me the whole synopsis again just in case.”

_ Screaming match _ … 

Janus went pale. 

“You- oh,” they placed a hand over their mouth, “I didn’t realize…” 

“It’s okay, man, it’s my fault too,” Virgil blurted. 

Janus wasn’t looking at him. They were staring at the floor, trying to get the world to stop spinning. 

“That’s good, V. Good start!” And there was Remus, grabbing them both by the shoulders and dragging them in closer. Neither really moved. “See, I say  _ start _ , because the three of us are gonna sit here until we have all our shit worked out together, and we can talk about all those deep dark feelings you’ve been shoving deep down in your souls- which! I know we don’t have, and/or are as black and cold as coffee, so let’s save the edgelord bit and cut to the crying, okay?”

There was just a hint of sarcasm lacing its voice, but not nearly enough for Janus’ comfort. They needed to get this done and over with, not make a goddamn day of it. 

“Please, Remus, this is  _ very much  _ a good idea, and you don’t sound at  _ all  _ like Patton right now.” 

Virgil grumbled under his breath something that sounded an awful lot like:

“Yeah, and you would know.” 

Janus bristled.

“What was that?”

“Nothing- I didn’t say anything.”

“Liar,” Janus sneered. 

“Oh please, you know that you-”

“THIS IS EXACTLY WHAT I’M TALKING ABOUT!”

The argument snapped to a stop immediately, although Virgil and Janus were equally tempted to bitch about how loud Remus was yelling right by their ears. But it looked so on edge that neither dared, because it could surely yell louder if it really had a reason to.

“Hey, you know I don’t give a shit what other people get up to in their free time- do I look like I have a right to judge?- But what I  _ do  _ give a shit about is when I have to hear my boyfriend and my best friend tear each other to shreds fucking constantly, and I’m the one that’s gotta deal with it.” 

“So you  _ are  _ an item,” Janus cut in quickly, sending Virgil a look, “Yet you still make snide remarks about whoever I  _ may or may not  _ be involved wi-”

A sharp pinch to the ribs had them shutting up with a yelp, and Remus went on as if nothing had happened. 

“It’s been four years since that stupid fucking falling out. Four years, you know that right?” It’s gaze flip-flopped between them, until both traits begrudgingly nodded. “That’s a long-ass time for you two to still be acting like toxic middle-schooler ex-best-friends, considering middle school literally doesn’t last that long.”

Virgil huffed, but said nothing. It seemed he’d already resigned himself to this conversation. 

Despite themself Janus was struck by how much of an effect Remus must really have had on him, if it was able to convince the most stubborn being they’d ever met to do something like this. With that in mind, they swallowed their arguments, and tried to sound halfway polite. 

“Analogies aside, darling, perhaps we should just resolve this quickly. Here, how’s this- we let each other be from now on, right? We’ll be coworkers, agree not to talk any more than we need to, and that should alleviate… the larger part of the tension.” 

Virgil nodded, hesitantly, resting his chin on Remus’ shoulder and curling in on himself a little more.

“I can do that. It would be easier, if we could just stop all of it,” his voice was hollow, and Janus felt an unplaceable sort of guilt. Relief and disappointment all in one. 

“Wow, okay, so neither of you are remotely capable of being that civil- and that’s coming from  _ me! _ ” Remus leaned forward sharply, a fidgeting movement, but it unfortunately jolted both of its companions with it. Both struggled to sit up again. “Nah, you’ll both be bitter and uncomfortable forever and ever and ever and probably even after we’re all having worms crawling through our empty eye sockets. Try again!”

Virgil hissed at it. Janus followed suit.

“Hey, I’m not enjoying this any more than you guys! You think I wanna be the  _ adult  _ in this situation? Fuck no! So you two better get your shit together before we do this  _ my  _ way.”

There was a beat.

“Either of you wanna know what my way is?”

Another pause, followed by some grumbling.

“Yeah, thought so!”

Janus finally tugged themself out of its arms, huffing. They smoothed out their clothes (and resolved to wash them at the soonest possible convenience). 

“Well, I don’t know what you want me to say. That I’m sorry? Is that anything? But you already know that I am, and I don’t suppose it counts for much now.”

Remus looked very pointedly at Virgil, like that was supposed to be a cue. Virgil crossed his arms over his chest.

“No- I mean,  _ yeah _ , be sorry-”

“I am,” Janus snapped.

“But-”

“I feel I’ve made that clear.”

Virgil glowered at them, oh-so reminiscent of how he looked the night preceding. Janus pursed their lips and turned their head away- and they  _ knew  _ they were being unfair. They knew he was trying to say something, but a dark part of them still felt smug satisfaction in making him angrier and angrier instead.

“Why are you so fucking impossible?”

“Pots and kettles, Virgil.”

“Any other time,  _ sure _ , I’m just the world’s biggest hypocrite, but I’m actually trying to not be a dick right now!”

“Could have fooled me.”

Remus clapped its hands together, reminding the other two that it was very much still there.

“Okay, zero points all around! Janus- why don’t you let somebody else say something and then listen to them, otherwise I will not hesitate to tear off those ears that you obviously aren’t using-” it flashed them a tired, tired grin, and promptly whirled around on Virgil. “Scarecrow- I  _ did  _ warn you that they’d be a bitch about this before we got here. Yeah, Janus might have been really,  _ really _ in the wrong for some serious shit, but I don’t think any of us are saints here-” it interrupted itself with a laugh. “You have to  _ actually _ forgive them before you tell them that you do,” it leaned over to Janus, conspiratorially, and ignored Virgil’s embarrassed bristling. “This was his idea, you know.”

Oh. 

_ Oh.  _

“I didn’t know, actually,” Janus breathed. 

Something in Virgil’s eyes shifted; what they had been certain was begrudging resignation had, in one sentence, been recolored completely as _remorse_. But Virgil only shrugged, turning that painful expression mercifully away from Janus. 

“I  _ do  _ forgive you,” he admitted, “At least, I’m starting to. If- if you could ever forgive me, I mean…” he grimaced, tangling a stressed hand in his hair. “It’s right, okay, I’m nowhere near perfect, and I- I was  _ always  _ horrible to you, wasn’t I? Fuck, I just… When I looked back on the- the ‘old days’, when it was just the three of us, I wasn’t exactly self-aware,” Virgil laughed humorlessly. “I knew I was a dick to the Lights. I was so mean, and spiteful, and I-” He looked truly grim at the memories, and despite everything, Janus was still so weak for him when he spiraled like that. Back when they’d comfort him properly, when the sweet things they said about him  _ were _ lies, and how could he still feel so harshly now that they were true? 

“You had to deal with me, too,” Virgil went on, “Just as much as I was stuck with you. We were all just… shitty people in a shitty situation, clinging to each other instead of trying to- to be better, I guess,” and then, bitterly and under his breath: “Not that we had the chance, back then.” 

Remus cleared its throat pointedly. Virgil rolled his eyes. 

“Okay,  _ me and you  _ were shitty, Jay.”

Janus can’t help but laugh, short-lived and choppy and surprised. However, they can feel the tears sparking in their eyes- mortifyingly, for the second time in as many days- and their throat feels like it’s full of sand. 

It sounds a lot like an apology. From someone other than themself, for a change, and- it’s hard. Not to spit out sorrys of their own, just so that he knows he isn’t wasting his time with them, and that they  _ are _ . That they aren’t the same person from four years ago- or at least, it doesn’t feel like they are, because that side couldn’t have cared less about hurting people.

_ ‘I see how much you’re improving,’  _ the memory of Patton’s words, in one of their many talks, not so long ago at all, has Janus laying their hands to their chest and swallowing back whatever they were about to say. They took a moment to  _ think _ . Because an improved creature is one that puts an effort into their words, and doesn’t spit out barbs with reckless abandon.

“I think I understand now,” they said slowly, “What our problem always was.”

Virgil perked up, staring intently at them. “Yeah? What’s that?”

“You’ve always seen the negative side of things, Virgil. Obviously, you’d only have  _ fond  _ memories of me after everything, not at  _ all  _ clouded by the way things ended, but I…” Janus had to force it out of their mouth, the admission that followed: “I wouldn’t exactly call myself optimistic, but I have a knack for, maybe, picking out the good things in a bad scenario, and ignoring all the rest of it that, you know. Doesn’t exactly help me.” 

They couldn’t tell if Virgil agreed; he only looked shocked. When they tried to find a clue from Remus, it looked possibly more taken aback than its partner. Wonderful.

“I- I suppose what I mean to say,” they plowed on, stammering, “Is that things have never been great, but we- we had to have  _ some  _ good moments, didn’t we, Virgil?”

Silence.

“Virgil…?” 

He blinked at them, and they were sure they looked the picture of pathetic: sleep-ruined hair, red eyes, fidgeting with their fingers and trying not to squirm, all while they asked him the most leading question they possibly could have. Really, what was he even supposed to  _ say  _ to that? 

“Of course we did.”

Well. That, apparently. 

“I just- you’re not wrong, for once, but it’s more than that. I  _ hated _ thinking about anything good that happened with you, man.”

They really didn’t have a right to be surprised about that.

“Because it fucking hurt to miss you like that, Janus.”

Janus’ eyes blew wide, and  _ no no no _ , they weren’t going to cry again. They sunk their teeth into their cheek, not to make a noise and not to speak; there were so many ways they could ruin this moment, how could they take that risk?

But Virgil was watching them, anxiously, expectantly, and they couldn’t just…

“Aww!” Remus said, slicing that tension apart impressively easily, “See, that’s what we came here to do- and here I was, worried I’d have to call it a day and chain the two of you together until you made up. Well, there’s always next time.”

Virgil laughed, rolling his eyes, and some of that worry seemed to just melt away from him. 

But, no, that couldn’t be- that couldn’t be  _ it _ , not after all that time. Janus had to just,  _ anything _ , say something! 

“And if you didn’t have to miss me?” They forced, hating the way uncertainty tasted in their mouth. “If we could try again? There would be- the good, it might outweigh the bad, this time around.”

Janus glared at the carpet, determined to ignore how the implication they’d made of missing him back. It was true, of course, and anyone who knew them well could see it as plain as day, but- it was all so  _ humiliating _ .

Virgil’s voice was hesitant:

“You’d want that? After everything we did to each other?”

Janus didn’t look at him once; they’d cry if they did, they knew it.

“Of course I would. If I still felt for you at your  _ worst _ , how- how couldn’t I want your company  _ now _ ?”

He breathed in sharply. Janus swallowed, and waited, and tried so hard to ignore their mind’s screams of  _ too much too real take it back don’t trust him  _ **_take it back_ ** _. _

“I’m so tired of thinking about how things used to be,” Virgil said, “Maybe you’re right. Maybe we can kill the past this way,” his voice dipped, and suddenly the weight of it extended to all three of them in the room. “Together.” 

And all at once, the floodgates burst. Janus’ vision went cloudy, as tears swallowed the human side of their face, flooding down their chin. They gasped breaths in and felt hiccupping cries crawl out of their mouth unstoppably, filling the otherwise quiet room with desperate, horrible noises. But somehow, the embarrassment from crying couldn’t  _ compare  _ to the hope burning in their chest like a small star. 

They tried to croak out the name “ _ Virgil _ ,”- though realistically it sounded more like a vague guttural gasp. It must have been clear enough anyway, because before they could so much as reach out a hand, there was a flash of movement and they were left with two arms full of emo. 

Virgil had barreled into them, barely giving Remus time to get out of the way before he was half in their lap with his arms around their shoulders. He, much bigger than Janus in almost every way, was able to wrap their body up in an ironically python-like grasp. Janus didn’t hesitate to hug him back just as hard, sprawling their arms around his middle and soaking him with tears. 

Neither of them were huggers- or would admit to being one, even if they were- but it seemed to both of them as the only thing to do. Janus, needing to know that it was all still real; Virgil, seeing someone in distress and having the impossibly strong urge to protect. 

And to all of Janus’ reconciliations- the April day which sparked their friendship with Patton, that faltering conversation in Logan’s library, Roman’s forgiving of them in his very own theater- Virgil outshone them all. With his weight on top of them, enveloping them, they felt well and truly redeemed.

Maybe it was Virgil’s status as the oldest side; maybe it was because he’d always seemed to look after everyone after his acceptance, but Janus had never had him when he was so caring, and now here he was letting the past and present collide into something new and better; maybe it was as simple as the warm hand on the back of their neck, calloused, still comforting. But whatever it was, it made the weight on Janus’ shoulders finally lift. 

“So-” Remus’ voice startled the both of them, “Scale of one to ten, how totally inappropriate would it be if I joined in on this touching reunion?” 

Virgil shifted back, and Janus reluctantly let him to look up at Remus. It wore a disgustingly proud smile, and its hands were clasped together against its heart(s); it looked almost cartoonishly pleading. 

“Come here, stupid,” Virgil said, and that was all the invitation Remus needed to throw itself gleefully into the pair of them. 

Janus hit the cushions with a muffled  _ oomf _ , as the three of them went sprawling out across the couch. Remus placed itself on top of them and Virgil, making some creaking noises that might have been equivalent to a contended purr (supposing that purrs came from old rusted doors instead of cats). Virgil didn’t flinch at the abrupt rearrangement, wrapping his arms around it and Janus easily. 

Janus didn’t stop the wide, unbidden smile from spreading across their face. Tears still crawled down their cheekbone, at that angle, and they felt light-headed. 

Remus propped its head up on their chest, muttered some sentences that Janus didn’t hear beyond the ringing in their ears, and reached forward a hand. Probably to take care of the tears- it had always hated seeing them cry, on the rare occasions they did- but Virgil batted it away. Playfully, of course, and he smiled while he said that it would end up scratching Janus’ eye out with those claws it had. Virgil leaned over them himself, and dragged the pad of his thumb under their eyes. He gave a quiet apology for doing something so sentimental, and Janus was distantly aware that they said it was alright. That they quite liked it.

He laughed, a low chuckle that Janus had never had the pleasure of being the cause of until then. They closed their eyes tight, to save themself the embarrassment of another bout of tears, and relaxed into their companions. 

And  _ that’s  _ what you call a family. 

_ “Never discourage anyone who continually makes progress, no matter how slow… Even if that someone is yourself.” - Plato  _

The living room had been full to bursting, so much so that it absolutely couldn’t contain the sides for any longer. Not that there were any more of them than usual- six sides, six family members- but by God were they all in a rambunctious mood, feeding into each other’s energy until staying indoors was intolerable. 

The group finally amoeba’d outside after someone (Roman, it was definitely Roman, but he denied it fiercely) nearly obliterated the television because of some very excited gesturing. 

It was sunny out, a little too hot, but a nice wind every now and then kept it pleasant enough. Better than the cold, Janus figured. Plus, it never hurt to get out of the main house and appreciate some of the less important set-dressing of the Mindpalace. 

Not too far from their home, there was a small stretch of woods- a place the twins used to favor for exploring, years ago- with a neat dirt trail winding towards and through it. The yard was wide and green and beautiful, covered head to toe by bushes of flowers, or patches of moss (just to spit in the face of monoculture, Janus proudly observed). A few trees dotted the grass in front of the house, too, because if they weren’t encumbered by the rules of their human’s actual apartment, then why not have some fun with it?

Today, however, promises of scenery and adventure were ignored in favor of throwing an enormous comforter down onto the grass and settling in. 

Janus sat on the edge of the blanket, Virgil next to them. Patton was beside it and had immersed himself in the flowers, across from Roman, the pair of them weaving stems into various creations. Remus was more or less all over the place, sprawled out on the blanket and then running around and then eating all the prettiest flowers before Roman could pick them, and then wandering off and coming back, and et cetera. Logan had taken to lounging on the other end of the blanket from Janus, and was busy pretending not to see the heart-shaped, cornflower and red-rose wreath that Roman was no doubt weaving for aer. 

Janus tucked their legs to the side and decided, why not, on such a perfect day, to free their extra arms for a while. They stretched the lower pairs until each socket satisfyingly  _ popped _ , sighing at the feeling. 

“What’s on your mind, Jay?” Patton asked them with a smile. 

“Oh, nothing much,” Janus hummed, “Musing on how dearly I despise the outdoors, that’s all.”

Virgil snorted. They shot him a glare (a playful one, and nothing of the kind the two used to aim at each other.) 

“Okay, that one’s a lie. Everyone can tell when you’re sunbathing, dude.” 

Janus blinked at him, then at Patton. Huh. 

“Of course not,” just a bit of denial in their voice, but the question: “Whatever makes you think that?” was genuine.

“You took your hat off,” Patton laughed.

“You always, like, spread all your limbs out,” Virgil added.

“Your eyes go glassy!”

“Oh, and you always pretend you aren’t doing it, like what you just said.”

Janus stared at them, faintly surprised, and a bit more touched than the situation called for. It was really just a few simple observations, but Janus of all creatures knew how important the little things were. The  _ most  _ important, that was to say. And really, they should have known by then that  _ they  _ were known, and perhaps they did, but in that moment the fact occurred to them so clearly that they didn’t exactly know what to do with it. 

“ _ If _ I am sunbathing,” Janus said, determined to ignore the fact that they had gone awkwardly silent, “Then I am still entirely in control of how I look while doing so, thank you very much.”

The others laughed. Janus rolled their eyes. It was too lovely a day to be upset about a bit of harmless mockery.

And that was how the conversation continued; A little teasing, nice talk, different topics catching on between them, all talking to everyone or talking to one or to nobody in particular, it became hard to understand. Remus managed to calm down enough to sprawl itself across Virgil’s lap, and Janus had no problem inching nearer to Patton to give the both of them some space. Roman finished his wreath, presented it proudly to Logan, and immediately took up an even more ambitious flower creation. Patton had made several wonky crowns and bracelets, and continued to do so, even when every single side was already wearing several apiece (you don’t turn down a gift from Patton, it was an unspoken rule. Not that anyone would ever have a reason to). 

So morning became afternoon became evening, and at some point Janus’ legs began to ache. Their over-laughed ribs did, too, as well as their tongue from the hours of talk-talk-talking. 

At a lull in the conversation, Janus stood up. They arched upwards, slowly, stretching out their back and array of arms not unlike a cat. 

“Where’re you off to?” Roman shot them a faux-suspicious glance, dusting the stray petals off his flower shawl. 

“Better not be inside, Two-Face,” Remus added, “Whatever deep dark secrets you keep building are way more boring than  _ us _ , and all this good clean fun!”

Janus glanced at both of them, trying hopelessly to keep their smirk from becoming a grin. “Very clean, seeing as you  _ totally _ aren’t caked in a veritable layer of mud,” they stepped off of the now grass-stained comforter, stretching their legs. “I’m getting dreadfully sore. I’m thinking I’ll take a bit of a walk, on my own. I’ll be back shortly,” the last bit added over their shoulder, as Janus mounted the trail that twisted its way to the forest. A few scattered ‘ _ goodbye _ ’s were tossed after them, some more enthusiastic than others, as they offered a lazy wave. 

They did intend to return in twenty, maybe thirty minutes later. Conversation had a special way of exhausting them even then, months and months after it had become commonplace with them. 

Months, and… had it really been a year already? 

Janus stopped when they met the edge of the forest. The sun failed to filter through the thick canopy of leaves ahead of them, leaving all the woods in darkness. The little trail carried on for a few meters before ending at a clearing, a pond sitting in the center and reflecting the trees perfectly in its dark marbled surface. There was one particularly large, thick-trunked sycamore with yellowish leaves looming over it. In a lonely corner of the water, several dozen lily-pads floated peacefully. The grass in the clearing was patchy and broken up by stones, bits of dirt, and sand.

Janus blinked at the ground, which had become not much more than a blur of green and brown. They blinked again, quicker, and weren’t sure why they’d had to. 

The earth crunched under Janus’ boots (boots they’d surely have to wipe the mud off of when they got inside, but a worry for another time) as they pushed themself to the clearing. They stopped and stared into the pond, into the dark, mossy water. They couldn’t see much, just upside-down trees and algae, and lichen. Somewhere from the marsh, a frog croaked. 

“Hey there.”

Janus whirled around, and either they were losing their touch, or six-foot-three Patton ‘Morality’ Sanders was much sneakier than he’d let on. Because there he was, just a few steps away, and they could’ve sworn he hadn’t made a noise at all.

They blinked twice. He smiled.

“I hope you don’t mind me tagging along,” Patton said.

“I very much do,” Janus lied. 

“I was thinking we could talk for a bit?”

“Well, what are we doing right now, if not talking?”

Patton’s smile widened at them for just a second, but his expression was promptly swallowed by apprehension. “Right,” Janus fixated on Patton’s shaky voice, turning their attention all to him as he spoke. “There’s something I need to say- um- to you, and I know that I’ll probably chicken out if I don’t do it now- and right now, today, out  _ here _ … It all just feels pretty perfect anyway, you know?”

Patton walked tentatively closer over the course of his rambling, until he and Janus stood shoulder to shoulder. Janus glanced up at him, appraised him, picked apart the way his cheeks were dusted with pink and how he fidgeted with his sleeves and how he shifted his weight from foot to foot.

They knew what this was. Of course they knew. Patton wasn’t at all subtle, Janus wasn’t at all unobservant, he’d so clearly ventured after them for a reason and they honestly couldn’t say they hadn’t seen it coming.

And he wasn’t wrong; it really was the nicest day for a love confession, Janus couldn’t have done it better themself. Or, more accurately, they wouldn’t have. Janus wasn’t a brave person, and that probably wouldn’t have changed no matter how apparent the situation became to both of them. 

So there Patton was, and they admired him for that more than they’d care to admit. They were giddy with it, a feeling not unlike drinking too much champagne and getting fuzzy in the head for the whole night. Tipsy. 

Janus took a deep breath. 

“What was it you wanted to say, Darling?” The pet-name rolled off their tongue purposefully, working wonders to darken Patton’s blush a few shades and bring that smile out wider. They could play it off as a reassurance, for his sake, and it was partly so, but Janus knew the kind of power they felt using words like that. Something as simple as drawing a reaction from him, and Janus could almost forget how little control they really had over the situation. They could almost ignore the bubbliness and anxiety and- fuck it-  _ hope _ , that threatened to overflow them. 

Was Patton close enough to sense their emotions, they wondered? Would it matter if he couldn’t hear them over his own?

“This- this is something I’ve been thinking about for a while now, actually. Since, um- do you remember- it was after you started talking to Logan, like,  _ right  _ after- and we… napped together?”

Janus nodded, smirking.

“That’s when it started, I think. Maybe it was just when I realized it, though, ‘cause it’s- it’s always tricky to say exactly when,” Patton laughed, awkwardly. “I- I knew I was gonna tell you eventually, even if it took me a while to get there. I’m selfish to tell you, I know that, and I’m okay with that- I figured you might be proud, ya know, to see me taking your advice,” he gave a weak smile, and Janus nodded. They  _ were  _ proud, among other things. “I didn’t want to say it too soon, back when everything was new and I- I didn’t want to break any of it. I wanted to keep being the person you came to for stuff, somebody you could really trust. I hope I still can be, Jan, and I- oh gosh, I’m not making any sense, huh?”

Patton had a way of looking so small, sometimes, and Janus almost felt as if he was the one staring up at them. A mist was in his eyes, he was shaking his head at himself, and Janus realized with a start that Patton was going to  _ cry _ .

“I think I’ve put together what you’re trying to say,” they admitted, talking low and soft like Patton was a startle-prone animal. Their hand brushed his, intentionally, and they hoped it was any kind of affirmation. 

Patton slumped forwards a bit- impossible to tell if it was from exhaustion or from relief- and let out a long-labored sigh. 

“I’ve still gotta say it. That’s the most important part, saying it,” and Patton was drawing towards them, placing his hand delicately on Janus’ shoulder. They leaned into him easily, in a way of saying that it was okay, they were listening, they  _ knew _ .

“Janus,” Patton breathed, “I love you. A lot,” tears were caught in his eyelashes, his emotions put forward open and clear just for them. And Patton was a beautiful crier; no one else could have made it look so much like an act of worship. “You have no idea how much it means to me that you took a chance being my friend, even though we both know I was a- a mess, and that we’ve always been so different, and I’m… I’m a big sap,” he laughed wetly, “But now look at us! Look at  _ you _ , Jan, you’re so wonderful. Gosh, I love you, I’m so happy to love you.”

The confession, Janus had been expecting. 

But the tears. The way that, once Patton had overcome his rambling and actually  _ said  _ those three little words, he suddenly had the eloquence of an Arabic love poem. The way that his voice went soft, his hand trailed up to cup the scaled-side of Janus’ face, palm warm like all of his feelings were bleeding out from the skin and they all  _ burned. _

That… That, Janus was less prepared for. 

There wasn’t a word that managed to escape from their lips, sentences in their mind becoming fuzzy when they tried to speak them. Janus lifted a hand, clutching Patton’s wrist to keep his touch where it was, reveling in the way that made hope shimmer across his eyes. Their opposite hand grasped below his shoulder, just to the side of his collarbone. Jesus, it was like touching a  _ bonfire _ .

“Patton, you-” were they always so soft-spoken, their voice edged like crinkling tinfoil? “You’ve done so much for me as it is, my Dear.”

Patton tilted his head to the side in bemusement, but Janus had finally found what they needed to say. They could barely breathe to elaborate:

“Don’t you dare take this as an endorsement of your selflessness, but, it does make you so impossible not to adore when you’ve done everything you can to help me. You’ve given me far more than I deserve, and more than anyone should have, and I’ve been  _ totally  _ capable of offering you  _ just _ , as much,” Patton frowned at that, but Janus plowed on: “And it doesn’t worry me  _ at all _ , the idea of being so completely in someone else’s debt. But I’ll be relieved of that now, it seems,” They paused, reaching the hand on Patton’s wrist up just higher enough to tangle their fingers with his. “Because after everything you’ve given me, as if it weren’t enough, now. You intend to give me yourself, too,” they guided his hand to cup the back of their neck, dropping their own to rest on his upper arm. “And I’m happy to say that I can  _ finally _ ,” they dragged him in, arched themself up, grasped him tightly without any intention of letting go. “Begin returning the favor.”

Neither knew who moved first, only that their lips were pressed together either way.

Patton had to lean down, and Janus was standing on their toes. His arm was around their waist, his other hand threaded through the hair at the base of their neck. They held him close, just his arm and his collar at first, and then they couldn’t help it- a second pair of hands grabbed Patton’s waist, the third set winding around him clingingly right after. The burn on Janus’ skin was ever present, but it didn’t hurt. Patton dipped them lower, angled their heads just so, and in the press of his lips Janus could taste sugar. They let out a low hum of contentment, pulling even more insistently as though Patton could possibly be any closer than he already was. 

He laughed against their lips, gentle and teasing, so sweet a sound that they couldn’t be too disparaged about him pulling away in the process of making it. They grinned, eyes still closed, probably looking absolutely ridiculous and not caring at all.

Janus kissed him again, shorter and lighter this time. Then a third, and a fourth, until the both of them were happily trading small pecks and chaste affections.

“So- so, does this-” Patton said, breathless, between kisses, “-mean you’ll-” another, “-have me?”

Janus smiled up at him, putting their smothering of his lips on hold, and laughed. 

“Of course, of course I will. I  _ haven’t _ got a requirement for this, though.”

Patton looked dizzy, awestruck, and was flushed down to the collar. “Anything, Jan.”

They sighed fondly, raising their uppermost set of hands to cup his face. 

“You must understand that, if I have you,” they brought him back down just to touch their noses together, something delirious and sappy that at any other time they would surely heckle. Not now, though, not with Patton. “Then you have me just the same. And I may disagree with speaking in infinites, but there aren’t many things that I wouldn’t do for you. Is that clear?”

He was crying again, quietly, beautifully. 

“Yes,” it was a whisper, “I understand, I- oh,  _ Janus _ .”

He was the first one to use their name; it had sent shivers up their spine then, and it made them shiver now.

“Good,” Janus murmured, “It seems we’re on the same page.”

“I love you.”

“And I you.”

And Janus would’ve been happy to pull Patton under the shade of the tree, back him up against it, and kiss him senseless for as long as they dared. They would have, too, if he hadn’t very delicately pointed out that they’d been missing for at least half an hour, and that the others would most certainly be looking for the both of them soon. Weighing the risks, Janus figured that they’d rather  _ not  _ deal with the repercussions of being caught in  _ that kind of a position  _ by literally anyone ever, and agreed to head back.

It was fine, anyway. They could make up for it by the evening, or the next day perhaps. There wasn’t any rush.

They had all the time in the world.

_ “Rules for happiness:  _

_ something to do, someone to love, something to hope for.” - Immanuel Kant _

Janus was lying less. Their thoughts and opinions almost slipped out of their mouth without a second thought, which was truly mortifying at first, but it seemed to be the way most people lived their lives. Saying things, meaning them. Janus grew to manage candor well enough, if only for their family’s sake. 

They could never really shake the sarcasm, though. It was too much a part of them, more an atypical speech impediment than any kind of real lying. But everyone seemed to excuse Janus of that, without any questions. The acceptance was new, and strange, and lovely. 

Ugh,  _ what _ a sentiment. Janus was going to get a cavity from all this sap, someday. 

Although that did remind them… 

“Patton, darling,” Janus leaned over the arm of the couch, watching while Patton tidied up the living room. He was nearly done, they figured- and a good thing too, because Janus had grown quite bored of rummaging around in their own thoughts for the day. “I think you’ve begun to rub off on me.”

Patton looked over at them, smiling perplexedly. 

“How do you mean, Jan?”

Janus glanced back at him, sly. 

“I’m afraid I’ve become horridly emotional. In fact, I should like for you to find your way over here and indulge me right now, or I’ll certainly weep from the neglect,” they lamented, pressing their fingers against their temple in faux woe. 

Patton laughed at them. His eyes always crinkled at the corners, and smile lines curved around his mouth, making him look older than thirty by far. But it was cute. 

“I know you need attention, but  _ I  _ need to finish sweeping.”

Janus turned their face from him.

“I suppose I’ll have to survive with no one to watch movies with me. What a shame, I don’t know how I’ll manage to cope without someone here reminding me how similar I am to the villain in  _ 101 Dalmations. _ ”

Patton rolled his eyes, his grin only widening. “It’s the way you enunciate! You know you do that on purpose, come on.”

“I have _ no _ idea what you’re talking about.”

“You totally do! You, um- what’d Remus call it?” Patton leaned against the broom, tapping the handle thoughtfully. “You ‘kin’ her, that’s what it was.”

Janus’ brain took a little vacation, so they could hack their lungs up laughing for a while.

“Never-” they were so horribly shrill, “Never repeat the things Remus says, I was not  _ prepared _ -!”

Patton’s shoulders bounced while he laughed confusedly, going up and down like a wave pool so much he struggled to hold on to the dustpan. 

He wheezed: “It’s not a bad one, is it?”

Janus cackled.

“Is it!?”

Janus pressed their hands to their sternum. Patton gave up on getting an answer, huffed, and finally set aside the broom. 

By the time Janus had calmed down, Patton was already slotting in beside them. He sat down with a sigh, pressing his shoulder to theirs. They found his hand, and weaved their fingers between his. 

“So, are we really watching  _ 101 Dalmations _ ?” Patton asked, plucking up the remote. 

“Oh, I don’t care. I just wanted you to hurry up and pay attention to me.”

“I already am, Sweetpea,” he said, and kissed their cheek. Janus smiled, caught his chin and tilted it down with their free hand. 

“And not nearly enough,” they whispered. 

“That so?” Patton teased, angling closer.

“You know how I am,” Janus found themself half-sitting in his lap, not minding the change of position at all. “Terribly clingy, always.” 

“ _ No _ , you? Really?”

Sarcasm was an impossibly adorable look on Patton. His eyes would sparkle at his own humor, his tone would drop like it was some kind of inside joke that only Janus could possibly understand (and on some levels, perhaps that was true). 

They returned his conspiratorial smile for just a second, and then closed the gap. 

Patton hummed- he almost always did that when Janus kissed him; no matter the circumstance, he couldn’t help making the contented noises. Patton was sweet in every sense of the word, and if Janus hadn’t been certain that the other sides would ruthlessly mock them should one stumble upon the scene (very likely, considering their indiscretion), they would’ve been happy to spend the rest of the afternoon swapping affections with him.

It wouldn’t have been the first time. Maybe tomorrow.

Janus drew back in an amazing display of self-control, ignoring the little sigh Patton made. They brushed their thumb along his cheekbone, adoring how easily he leaned into them.

“Oh, how did I ever get so lucky?” They thought aloud, an honest question if not an embarrassing one.

Patton frowned. It did nothing but make him look any less cute, obviously, and idly Janus traced along his jaw with their fingers.

“What do you mean, lucky?” That strong jaw moved as he spoke, he sounded uncertain. Janus’ hand fell to his neck, gently grazing the bump of his spine. “Lucky with me?”

“Who else, Sunshine?” They weren’t thinking while they talked at all, were they, too caught up in him. They would laugh at themself later. “I don’t know what I could call you and I, other than a stroke of brilliant luck. You’ve grown a knack for fixing things since we first met. My disastrous situation of living, for example.”

Patton was pensively quiet. Janus had since guided their fingers down his shoulders and arms appreciatively, and realized that trailing any lower would probably not suit the tone of the conversation at all. 

Janus blinked, realizing very suddenly the weight of what they’d said in their distraction. Oh, well. Nothing to do but wait for a reply and hope that whole mess wasn’t  _ too  _ ridiculous for Patton, they reasoned.

“Jan, that wasn’t me,” he said. “That was  _ you _ .”

Janus stared. 

“What?”

“That was you, going around and fixing stuff.  _ You  _ told me your name, you chose to trust me. We both know how hard that is. What’s most important is that you’re the one who worked so hard to be nice to people, and you actually apologized for stuff! Sure, maybe I nudged you in the right direction in some places, but, you’re the one that did all the hard work.

“And before you say it, I’m not just being humble. I mean it, Jan. You pushed through every instinct, every fear you had, and came out on the other side as… As  _ you _ .” Patton chuckled, so breathy and astonished that if Janus wasn’t paying such close attention, they could’ve sworn he was talking about an angel, and not- well. Them. “All you needed was somebody to believe in you, and you were already on it. If anything, I’m the lucky one, for getting to be that person for you.”

His words took a while to process. Unsurprisingly, Janus was shaken. 

Janus considered themself to be many things. They were a complex being, they were difficult, they were a mass of confusion. They’d always known this to be true, deeply ingrained within them- because that’s Deceit  _ is _ , isn’t it? Confusion, mistrust, a labyrinth of twists and turns used to conceal a lack of substance beneath it all. That was  _ them _ . Not someone who was driven to change themself, to work on themself by any stretch of the word.

Except it…  _ wasn’t _ .

Janus was smart, and they were a little dense. They were sharp of tongue and mind, but they couldn’t stop themself from speaking so oddly regardless. They liked to talk, they didn’t hate listening; they liked to be alone, and they needed to be with people. People who they cared about, which were more than they’d ever assumed- and they cared more than they thought they were capable of, for each of them. With all that as well, they loved to  _ think _ , they were  _ good  _ at it, and their mind felt much more adept at it now that they could actually find themself… fond of the person they were, living inside it. 

And Janus realized all of the above in a matter of seconds and it was  _ a lot to process _ .

“Patton-” they whispered hoarsely, “My love, I don’t- I-”

“Hey, hey, it’s alright, take your time,” Patton soothed, his hands heavy on Janus’ shoulders. He looked worried still, but it was shadowed by how painfully loving his gaze was. 

“Patton,” Janus tried again, “I think I’ve realized something.”

Patton tilted his head to one side. Then he smiled. 

“What is it, Sugar-Scales?” 

But he already knew, didn’t he? They both knew it now. Who Janus really, truly was.

So they didn’t say anything. 

Janus wrapped his fingers around Patton’s cardigan, pulled him in, and kissed him, achingly soft. There was that hum, and then his hand was on the small of their back, bringing them up. 

He’d done a lot of that, hadn’t he?

Janus kissed him, and they understood each other perfectly. 

_ “The most important relationship we can all have is the one you have with yourself, the most important journey you can take is one of self-discovery… Knowing yourself is the beginning of all wisdom.” - Aristotle  _

**Author's Note:**

> FOR THE LOVE OF GOD LEAVE COMMENTS!! PLEASE!!! criticism or anything else at all you guys, this work took so much of my Soul and for every comment i get i will love the world just a little bit more.
> 
> Anyway!! I hope you enjoyed my Dissection of Janus' Brain. for like a fourth of the time i was writing this i was also reading an anne rice novel and also I'm Me so i really just went ham on the yearning and the love and the affection between, like, all of the characters. what can i say man i just like writing about people who'd do anything for each other :/ its this disease called uh being a gay little baby
> 
> my decision to make half the characters cisn't is because i get Tired of writing about men all the time and i'm allowed to spice it up a little. do get used to it, because i'm going to screw with these sides' genders plenty more times, and thats a promise <3 
> 
> So!! that's about it!! i could probably drag more commentary out of myself but truth be told that'd be best formatted in like an entire additional chapter dedicated to author's notes (which i wouldnt be opposed to doing, obviously, so if anyones interested....). This whole thing was a good time, and I hope y'all liked it as much as I liked writing it!! 
> 
> Thank you,  
> -WJ


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